The Demise of Reality

Love: what a load of bullshit. What's the need for it? Why in God's name does anyone need anyone other than themselves to be whole? What's the point in emotions or free will, and more importantly, why do we need any of it to survive? What is it that pulls us to another person, or makes that particular person so special? What is it that makes love so vital to life? Simple, two-worded answer: It isn't. Here I leave you to ponder over the following story.

We move on from philosophy, and now focus our attention on the interesting predicament in which our two star cross'd lovers have found themselves. Entwined on the hard asphalt of the school parking lot in Forks, Washington, our hero and heroine manage to look extremely cosy and incredibly inappropriate at the same time. The girl, on top: our non-feisty, non-interesting person, she of the long brown hair hanging on either side of her face and huge, chocolate-brown eyes that express every emotion known to man. She is the weakest person in the whole story, embodying the classic damsel-in-distress in scene after scene. She is widely considered the least favourite character, yet everyone still manages to love her regardless. Each reader finds some trait that they can relate to in order to spend small amounts of time seeing through her eyes at the person she was tangled up with.

Our boy? With messy, copper-coloured hair and piercing green eyes, he is largely considered to be the hottest fictional character ever…which he is, of course. A perfect gentleman, he speaks as though from some long-forgotten era, and is only ever the most polite of creatures. A sigh escapes from every female's lips as his name is spoken and he, being the gentleman he is, gracefully accepts any and all compliments. Which, I assure you, he has plenty of.

Having lost her train of thought, the author moves on to the next plot device. Bella and Edward (for those are the names of our protagonists) proceed to stand up, whilst simultaneously holding each other, pulling their lips apart, flattening their hair and fixing their clothes…no mean feat in real life. They glance sweetly at the crowd that has gathered and can't even think clearly enough to be embarrassed. They continue to grin in a maddeningly happy manner as they introduce themselves to one another.

"Hi. I'm Bella."

She speaks quietly, definitely sounding like a mouse squeaking, as she reaches out her hand. He grasps it in his and speaks for the first time.

"I'm Edward. It's nice to meet you. You must know at this very moment that you are the one that God has placed on this earth for me, and I will proceed to tell you I love you in every cringe-worthy way possible for each remaining page of the story," he said in a calm, nonchalant voice.

"Oh," she replies annoyingly warily. Instantly regaining confidence, she adds, "That's lovely. I look forward to it." Still shaking hands, they continued to smile at each other in the most sickening manner imaginable.

The silence in the parking lot was deafening, and the disgust almost tangible as someone came to their senses after a few shocked moments and spoke.

"Jesus Fucking Christ! There is no such fucking thing as love at first sight! For fuck's sake, untangle yourselves!"

The blonde-haired character then directed a snide comment at the author, "I hope you're happy with yourself. You've just made thousands of girls all over the world swoon at something non-existent. Geez…I swear to God, writers nowadays. Nothing is like the originals. Now, Hardy…he knew how to write…" he trails off, talking about how Dickens and Austen knew true love, and leaving the author slightly dumbfounded. Little did he know that the writer held all the chips in this situation!

She simply proceeds to introduce her character as thus: Jasper, the blonde-haired boy who was looking at the two people tangled up in the parking lot, was a distinctly not-nice person; in fact, you could almost call him a bad person. His sports team, (whichever that might be) failed every match. His hair was dishevelled and looked about as sexy as a pile of hay that had just had needles rained on it, and his Texan accent was extremely rough, so much so that it only ever reminded anyone of the ex-president/monkey in chief. He was dressed as a matador and-

"That is a step too far, Miss 'I-have-the-pen-so-I-hold-the-power'! I am no matador!" he spat into the proverbial camera.

"This is crackfic, so shut your mouth and go along with it. The nicer you are, the smaller I'll write the bull," the author taunted, in her first and only piece of dialogue.

"OK, but Jesus! Would you at least stop gushin-" Jasper's mouth quickly grew a lock, and he proceeded to run directly to the nearest cliff before throwing the key away. There would be no chance of him speaking… ever again.

We now return to our young couple, who both remember- at the same time and fondly- how they came to meet each other.

Two minutes earlier

Bella had stepped out of her red Chevy and nearly stumbled to her death underneath a van. This almost always happened, because she was clumsy, weak and prone to death. She looked at the school with disdain and wondered what shenanigans she would get up to today. She sighed and blushed at nothing in particular, just because. Every Bella is expected, no required to blush by some sort of unspoken rule. For any character named Bella that even vaguely resembles Stephenie Meyer's character must blush at any word that is ever spoken. It is practically law.

She scanned the parking lot and her eyes came to rest on an astonishingly beautiful young man, who could only be described as a real-life Adonis. Seriously, that is the only way he was ever described. Clearly this could only be because he really looked like an annually renewed vegetation god, whose mother turned into a Myrrh tree from which he was born. What other reason could there be?

He was staring straight at her, and multiple unnameable emotions showed through his eyes, as they must. Naturally, they both started running towards each other and embraced in a passionate kiss. They were complete strangers, but hey, they were fictional; they could do that kind of thing.