mr

Any characters hinted at in this fic are Baz Luhrmann's, and not mine.


This is after the events of the movie. the one talking is Christian, he is somewhat bitter...


Love.

I believed in it, once upon a time.

Even before I knew what love was, what it felt like, what it would do to me I was fascinated by it; I revered it: I yearned for it. I wandered through life with stars in my eyes, unable to see clearly because I had put so much faith in the magic of love that I couldn't see the truth that is so horribly obvious. That I now know only too well.

Love is ultimately a mere illusion.

It blinds you to everything; you feel that your world is wonderful, that it will last forever because you're in love. When in reality it is never more fragile. You're in love, and then suddenly you can be torn apart, your heart ripped into shreds, your voice crying out in anguish into the black, gaping void where there once had been life. Where you had been laughing and singing, alive with joy; your are now sobbing in misery and pain. That's what love does. It makes you fly, then tears you down, laughing mockingly in your face. And you're left with nothing but the tear tracks on your cheeks.

But of course by the time I realized this it was too late.

I had loved and I had lost, and with that loss the last traces of my belief in that most treacherous of emotions vanished, dissipated like fog before a strong wind. And I was left with nothing but my memories, floating behind my eyes like pale ghosts. Nothing but the aching pain that throbs in my heart with every breath I take.

Love.

I believed in it, once upon a time.