Finding Contentus

Chapter 116: Sweet Love

Why is it so easy for me to love when it is easier for the world to hate? Was I just born this way, or did I learn to be this way through defiance to spit on all the shit that's happened to me and my people? When did the hearts of men and women break so much, so easily, never to be repaired? Was it when the primal gene first broke through? My heart has broken more times than a bone can break. And yet... like a muscle, my heartbreaks have only made my heart beats stronger. Is there something wrong with me, or is there something right with me?

Fuck. I know what love is. I've defined and reshaped its meaning countless times, and yet, I keep asking myself the same question every day and every night. What exactly... is real love?

Lovouta of Love loved philosophy. She loved questioning things. She loved studying things. She loved analysing things. She loved learning things. She loved observing things. She loved contemplating things. She loved all the things the world had to offer.

Did she hate? Of course she did. Some philosophers argued that hate was the polar opposite of love, the complete inverse of love. Lovouta agreed to an extent, but she argued a little differently in identifying the similarities and differences.

Hate is the mirror of love, the twin of love, the other end of love, the other side of love. Love can turn into hate and hate can turn into love. It's possible for love and hate to be one. Love-hate relationships exemplify this. "I hate you, therefore I love you. I love you, and that's why I hate you." There's also the view that they can be separate. "I could never hate you, I love you too much. I hate you so much that I could never love you." In that sense, love and hate coexist in a paradox like symbiotic relationships.

Lovouta captured her thoughts in her logbook, sitting on top of a statue in Akanto, namely on top of Òsun, Chieftess Bantii's Racaan deity of love, sweet waters and beauty. The statue's mouth was opened, singing for amber sunshowers to bless all of her children. Lovouta watched the people of the capital going about their night, dressed in a long black hooded robe with a silk face veil.

In the case of my enemies, it's ambivalence. She smiled wryly at that. They hate how much they love me, and they love to hate me. It was the case when Aya and I were in school. Those bullying fucks were shit scared of us, especially the boys for Aya and the girls for me.

Lovouta sighed, listening to the passing people. Zatalians had airy, breezy accents, their voices traveled in the open without clutter. They had amusing tones, not caring who heard what.

Lovouta loved listening to them, getting to hear a wide range of secrets and stories. She used that to her advantage when it came to blackmailing, manipulating and scheming, out of love of course, to survive and what not. The more you knew, the more dangerous you were, thus, the more leeway you had, especially with the Uppers.

Love-hate. Lovouta wrote. She had that kind of relationship with the Uppers. They had so much wealth that quite frankly, it was appalling to Lovouta. She was jealous of them. Why did they keep so much to themselves? Did they even care when they saw people begging? Did they even glance at those who suffered due to their exploitation and cheap labour? Why would they care if they were so up, leaving them to be at the bottom?

Lovouta's mind went to all her successful heists. Why was she never tempted to hog all the riches for herself like the Uppers? Was it because of how she was raised in Mettro, with her clan, in the shadows, in the underground?

Did it have to do with her father? Whenever Kesi would provide his family with money, Aaravi would tell her and Ayata to give that money to those less fortunate than them.

Yes. It started with her mother. In many ways, her aunt Kamilah had inherited Aaravi's selflessness without even realizing it. Aaravi sacrificed so much just to see Kamilah rise up the ranks to help their people, to help all the people of Mettro through wealth and power.