Strong (Prose)

He’s been caught amongst the things he’s loved for so long, or at least what he believe he loved. Life seems to be the catalyst in the confusion of such a powerful word. It’s over-done, over-used. It’s become another cliché in the sea of life’s problems and defense mechanisms, the very place it never belonged.

He’s wanted to tell her for years how he feels, but doesn’t want it to come across the wrong way. He’s not afraid she’ll just leave him stranded there and make him feel like an idiot, though. He’s afraid of the exact opposite, that she’ll take it like just another thing to say. A fad is what the most serious things men and women were ever meant to say.

He turns to the girl, starry eyed and enraged, splitting his lips to let out some sort of ear- and heart-shattering voice. He leans in really close to her, feeling her guilty breath on his lips, and finally tells her, “I hate it when you say I love you.”