From the Logs of Bex Mullin
Have you ever been in love?
The sort of love that turns you inside-out, steals your breath, alights your smile, makes your skin electric and your pulse erratic?
Has it ever possessed you?
Has it ever infected your blood, burning you to a daily fever til your eyes glossed and your pupils dialiated? Has it ever corrupted your logic until walking across town in the bitter cold without shoes seems just the thing to do? You don't need to call first. Why bother with the doorbell? Why not climb the fire-escape?
Bet that window is open.
The metal doesn't even feel cool, the grate soft and gentle under the soles of your feet.
This will be great. Just climb right in. Shh. Quiet, quiet. She won't even know you're there until you climb into bed. Just hold her close. Don't let go.
That's how the coroner found them two weeks later.
Locked in love and rigor-mortis; her face a portrait of torture, his one of utter bliss. The police located the man's flat across town, the walls plastered with photos and poetry. Cupid had struck, according to his journals one rainy afternoon when he had been walking out of the pharmacy. She had hailed a taxi. He had dropped his medication and followed her home. His entire life after that had been dedicated to her; he quit his job, stopped paying bills, returning phone calls.
Nothing in the woman's apartment or social life indicated that she had been aware of his obsession.
Iconography often depicts cupid with a bow and arrow, and in that they aren't far wrong. But the chubby cherub motif couldn't be more off. Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, a deranged and almost untranslatable story from the Renaissance is much closer to the mark. Let's look at that first word, from the Greek hýpnos, ‘sleep’, éros, ‘love’, and máchē, ‘fight’. The fight part here could be attributed to the protagonist's pursuit of unrequited love, or perhaps to the illustrations of women hacked to pieces by cupid for resisting his power.
You be the judge.
Finding unpolluted love these days is a risky and unlikely. There's just so much electrical traffic. Everybody has the internet in their pocket. It's just too easy for them. Love burns so bright and so fast; it's a etheric feast. Why do you think there are so many dating websites? Humans love connection, and it's the perfect exploitation point. Those sites aren't run by real people. They aren't.
I'm telling you, there is no such thing as love at first sight.
You feel like lightning strikes.
You get the fuck outta town.
Love is a demon-bitch that will eat you alive.