Throbbing Veins

Chapter 1 - STOCKHOLM

There comes a period in a young man's life when he starts to develop a deep obsession towards another person. That obsession clouds his mind, raises his pulse, slows his movements and gets him stuck into a constant state of limbo when he gets to question his every move in his own head. Day by day, he loses himself trying to please a person who's more real in his own imagination than she is in reality. 

How could he not? Who whishes to be very categoric with the targed of his obsession? No one! You don't want to doubt her, you don't want to asume things that would shatter your own little fantasy. It those moments, it's easier to blame yourself for your own actions, thinking that you should be worthy of the target of your obsession. You wish to please her at any cost and the obsession becomes even bigger.

Most people like to call that obssesion "love". But they're just hopless romantics, more enticed by the novelty of the butterflies that are gawning at their guts than the practical aspect of it. We humans sure love to think we're special just because we have emotions. But what if emotions themselfs are our defect? What if that's humanity real flaw, the things that holds us back from being the most perfect versions of ourselfs? Do we really have to balance our rational mind with all these weird feelings that overcomplicate out lives?

I don't think so. My rational mind promts me to see love as what it is: an obsession. If I were to raise the bar even more, I would say that love is the most serious case of a Stockholm Syndrome. When we love someone, we are that person's prisoners. We simpatize with our kidnapper and become willing participants in acts that could very well lead to our own downfall. How can that be a wonderful thing? It makes you weak! All you can do is be a victim and hope that this abuse is at least mutual.

Some say cold blooded reason is scary. But reason can never be more scary than what your feelings can push you to do. Feelings don't make sense. They come and go, and fluctuate a lot. Feelings are chaos. The rational mind is logic, it is order. Logic will never betray you, logic will be the same in all situation. Therefore, order can never be less than chaos! Why do we have to stand here and glorify chaos so much? Why?

"Adrian... Adrian... Adrian!" a soft, melodic, girl voice drags me out of my own world.

"Hmm?" I answer, covertly mesmerised by the chirping of the little bird that, without knowing, is pecking at my heart.

"What's up with you? I'm done, hand me the boxes!"

"Uh, yeah... sorry, there's a lot on my mind." I say as I hand her a box.

"Oh! What's ailing you?" she replys, as she puts the box on the upper shelf of the deposit space at the minimarket we both work at.

"You!" I was that close to blurt out. 

That would have been such a dangerous slip of tongue. Not the best way I ever imagined unleashing my tongue upon her, I might add. But her question almost begged for that response. 

That little weasal, how dare she! That was the equivallent of an open wound asking you how you're doing. Like a thorn in your side grinning at you while saying "what's up, homie!"

"Just the usual stuff. You know, things at home." I responded, trying to shamelessly hide her among my regular problems.

"You alway mention that, but you never go into specifics. Why are you so misterious?" she asks, as she lowers her head looking at me, while I hand her another box. 

"It's nothing, I don't want to bore you."

Honestly, everyone has their own sad little story. Or at least most people do. Life is not perfect. I don't think that she wants to hear about my diabetic acoholic father that was recently hospitalized. Even I don't feel good thinking about that bastard.