So, it’s happened. Romance’s back has finally snapped. Her tongue dangles in pinkish-grey hue from her sullen frothy mouth, lactating juices of decay on the bedroom floor. Glossy eyes begin to submerge into the abyss of white; she’s not coming back from this wound folks. It’s all over. Love is gone. Literally flown the coop. Romance’s heart has been mangled, blended into a nice puree of irony goodness, sauteed in an elegant port wine reduction, served to the gossip vultures, tiramisu to follow.
When you find that your true love has managed to prove that LOVE is four letters representing malice, prevarication, deception, and disrespect; how do you reincarnate yourself from fatality of emotions? Is it worth it? Is this breakup really as bad as Romance is making it out to be, or is she just an over-rambunctious drama queen singing “Wah Wah Wah” all the way home to mommy? Naturally you will seek guidance and opinions from your friends and family, who are more than happy to act as the Judge And Jury In the Case of Artist Vs. Roofer. They will come back with varying verdicts on the topic, all of which you were probably never venturing to take into consideration in the first place. It’s simple really: Romance wants her ex to burn in eternal hell fire for making her think that yes, she too could have been Kelly Kapowski with her own Zach Morris. Here’s the rub though, Zach didn’t use the demon social networking site Facebook to spread personal details about Kelly to all of his jock, redneck, chums. Curse you Saved by The Bell for setting up a whole generation for failures in love, you made it seem so blissful and easy.
Romance might be dead, but her artistic heart is still beating, and it’s about ready to burst with inspiration. The evolution of a broken heart, when harnessed, can produce advantages to ones career and passions. Emotions make the blood boil, the mind spark with fury and gusto, and the body fueled with adrenaline to kill or be killed. Love is a battlefield and you’re going to win this war. After-all, what better way to stick it to your ex than to walk away with a smile and profit? Yes, breakups are grotesque and brutal; doesn’t mean you can’t find some gain and turn that frown upside down right? Romance will rise from the dead and be the most elegant zombie strutting the face of the earth. Reincarnation is just a misconception; you may be born again, but you’re still the same you, only this time you’re decaying flesh and have no appreciation for your human counterparts.
From shock, to depression, anger and rage, Romance’s emotional status has been bouncing around like a maniac in a straightjacket. Thank fudge for those delightfully padded white rooms. Her outlet has always been, and will
always be, art. Pain is beauty. Romance has all the power once the final drop of blood has been squeezed from her heart. She will lose the ability to give a “flying fuck” about ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say…’ and throw caution to the wind. Rumors still swirl about her cranium encasing a “mental frame of mind”, which may as well be turned into fact since the wonderful world of Facebook is all abuzz. Heaven forbid Love’s redneck equivalents learn to read and write, compose a letter, and ask Dear Romance what actually transpired. Second thought, she’s better off without the words of interest, her head will just begin to disintegrate translating the LOL’s from the WTF’s and R U SRIOS?
Rather, she’ll compose her emotions and convey them in words and art, debilitating Love on a battlefield he’ll never be able to grace. Words will cascade from her zombified mind, free flowing and crass, raw honest spewing with such grace. Her right arm quivers with excitement to mutilate Love’s reputation, unleashing hell onto canvases while Buck 65 serenades her mania into repeat.
The is a war of emotions, take no prisoners, no holds bar. Love is fucked. Romance is the artist. We come out on top in the game of broken hearts and doomed relationships.