The Curse of Love

A torrent of corruption rises once again, but she’d have to dive in willingly. There’s always a choice to be made. She must carefully count the cost. Desperation is a powerful plight often birthed through the love of another. It’s a terrifying vulnerability to let someone in.

The evil we entertain always changes us, always alters the very fibers of our being, though it can remain unnoticed for a time. We all see what we want to see. At some point, there’s simply no going back.

Her own identity has been marred by the stain of compromised morals. It creeps along like poisonous tendrils quickly spreading beneath the surface of her skin. Justifications can’t save her from the things she’s done, no matter how compelling her reasons.

Whose classification of right and wrong is unchallengeable? Whose judgement is unquestionable, and how do you make someone genuinely accept them as truth? Is it an impossible task for the souls of the lost? God only knows, and even then some don't believe.

Despite her efforts, she could never truly break the hedonistic addictions of another. We make our own decisions. Hers have unintentionally allowed him defense against any hope for rehabilitation. He'd have to want it for himself. He'd have to wholeheartedly welcome the unbribled agony that must accompany such a sacrifice.

And the clock's always ticking. There’s a fine line between helping and enabling. These lines blur more deeply each time she gives in. It’s hard to love someone you’ve grown to very nearly hate - to let go of who you know they couldve been.

How do you save a man who exults in his crookedness - someone who clings to it like a life preserver - someone whose perception is so skewed that they refuse to see reason? He runs back to his ruination every time and embraces it as he would a lover.

To abandon him would surly mean his death. To allow that must be unforgivable.