My death, Love

Do you know what love is? Or how to tell when your in love? Do you really?

I do.

I can see you all sitting there now thinking "Do I? Am I really in love? Have I ever been in love? and what the hell would a promiscuous, long haired, melodramatic racing driver know about it anyway?"

I will tell you what love is as I can see the unsure amongst you are dying to know and I do love the look on peoples faces when they think they have become smarter!

Love, my dear readers, is giving someone other than yourself the power to destroy your life, your confidence, your self-esteem and generally make you feel worse about yourself than you could ever possibly manage on your own.

They can make you feel so bad you want to die. Indeed love is responsible for more deaths in the world than anything else! It is the most destructive force on the planet. More powerful (but closely linked) to its arch nemesis; hate and even stronger than McLelland's Seriously Strong Cheddar.

And they can do it with no effort. A word. A phone call. A look. An in-action. How about that? The act of literally doing nothing can be so painful, so hurtful it could drive someone over the edge.

So you think to yourself in quite a rational way; "Well, if they don't love me as much as I love them then I cannot go on living." It's stupid when you look on it objectively. There are of course many things to live for, I mean, who would pay your tax if you weren't here?

And you do go on living. Because suicide's a bitch.
"Stop cutting your arms!" my house mate screamed, "I've just washed the floor! Can't you kill yourself in the kitchen?"

"Sorry." I say, dabbing the blood up with my sock-coated foot as I head down the stairs.

"Oh no! Your not killing yourself in here!" greets me as I enter the kitchen, "And look at this gas bill! You and you failed suicide attempts! You make a mockery of self-annihilation! Go kill yourself in the bathroom. And do it quietly!"

The door to the bathroom is ajar, so it never occurs to me there might be someone in the shower as I enter the room with my bloody knife glistening under the fluorescent light.
My third house mate screams as I interrupt their nightly teeth brushing session. I chuckle at how much like the shower scene from Halloween this must look moments before screaming like a girl as my house mate stabs me in the eye with their toothbrush.

With my good eye I can see the remains of the other, still attached to the toothbrush as it is withdrawn from my skull. Blood is dripping off it and the nerve is still attaching it to my vacated eye socket. I can feel the blood running down my face, in to my mouth and I am thinking, "This must be the worse case of suicide ever. I can't even kill myself right."

My house mate screams "You bastard! You have got eyeball all over my toothbrush!"
"S-o-r" I cough in bloody spurts, "r-e-y"
"Don't speak!" My house mate shouts, "Your coughing blood all over the bathroom!"

I turn to leave but my absent eyeball, now shriveled and leaking its juices onto the blood stained floor, is still stuck to my house mates toothbrush. The nerve stretches, breaks and whips around hitting my poor housemate in the faces with a blood soaked slap.

"ARGHHH!" They scream in disgust and ram the tooth brush through my ribcage and into the broken heart that got me into this predicament in the first place. I look down with my one good eye and watch the blood spurt around the toothbrush in time with the beating of my heart. The spurts get less as the beating slows.

"yay," I think to myself, "I'm dying."

The bathroom goes black as the pain from my injures fades. But I carry the love that caused them to Hell with me.

That's not how I died by the way, I was just making a point. And my house mates in this world are the best and they would never try to kill me. Not with a toothbrush anyway.

THE MORAL!

Remember kids, love is dangerous. It could easily be you bleeding to death in your bathroom with only one eye and a toothbrush poking out of your chest.

Stick with drugs.



***All the crap you see written here is Kelvin's opinion and not that of his associates, race team or marketing partners.***