Flash Fiction: Sinner and Saint

Healthy love is like cathecting a beautiful flower—watering just enough, basking in the sun and relaxing at night, and admiring one day at a time; otherwise, it drowns and dies or it withers and dies.

Too much of anything is bad.

Enduring things for the sake of love is martyrdom.

You are the apple of my eye. I accept everything about you, even your series of lies and goodbyes.

Yes I know you lied, and you keep on lying still.

“You sinner, you distorted saint!,” said the small voice inside me.

Your are the best gift I ever received. Our bond is the best thing that ever happened to me. I learn a lot from the emotions you bring—joy, pain, excitement, and sadness.

“You blind, you fool!,” said the small voice inside me.

“Remove your blindfold; let your honest eyes see. Take off your hat; let your mind soar the heights of heaven. Unchain your big heart; let your love reach out to the many deserving—your family, your friends, including yourself.”

I lay in bed perplexed and vexed. I hate you little voice for resurrecting the truth I daily ignored. Perhaps now is the time to face what is long overdue. I retrospect. I denied. I bargained. I accepted.

Too much of anything is bad.

Enduring things for the sake of love is martyrdom.

True love is none of the above. True love is just enough of everything and enjoying things because of love. Healthy love is like cathecting a beautiful flower—watering just enough, basking in the sun and relaxing at night, and admiring one day at a time; otherwise, it drowns and dies or it withers and dies.

Now I tear my blindfold—I can clearly see; I throw the cap—my mind at peace; I break the chains—my heart relaxed. Now I can boldly discern.

I was a sinner, I was a distorted saint.

I am a winner, I am a learned saint.