Aug 4, 2018
Lately, I have been listening to the song “Waterloo" by ABBA. I found the lyrics extremely moving: “I feel like I win when I lose. Waterloo I was defeated, you won the war.”
Is it ironic that to be in love we have to lose ourselves? Or is life an invisible scale that we cannot tip?
I am a reckless ruler. I dance with pretty boys and blow kisses at gorgeous girls. Yet, under his perfection of a body is where I found a home. “Come here", I whispered, but what I meant was “take whatever you want, just give me your love”. It felt so good to give up the fight every time he smiled at me.
And of course, he left. Men like that are never satisfied with an easy win. I got my kingdom back, yet, freedom has never tasted so bitter.
