The Wrong Memo of Love(TWML) - by The Jotter Keeper

Love came in sweetly. I never knew there could be so much more to that four-letter word. I didn’t even know its name was love; all I knew was that my heart pounded wildly, and a euphoric feeling washed over me—not the kind you get from being high or sipping lean, but the kind that makes you tremble and still somehow leaves you confident. When love found me, it gave me two choices; the echoes of them still resonate deeply in my mind. They were choices that were never truly choices at all—more like a warning, a soft reminder that love means pain, and love means hurt. I ignored the warning and simply did my thing. Debby was the perfect embodiment of beauty. She had a scar on her thigh, sustained from a bicycle accident. Strangely, it complemented her beauty. I never saw it as just a scar, and since it never bothered her either, we simply lived with it. Debby once said to me, “It would take a never-ending day for our love to be cut short.” I laughed softly at her words as she swayed gently to the sound coming from a portable MP3 player. We talked about the smallest details because she noticed everything. The love was fresh; it sparked flames and volume. I expected fights. I expected quarrels. But all I received were smiles and reassurance. I thought love was pain and hurt—so why was mine different? Maybe love had sent me the wrong memo. I never knew I would experience that pain and hurt, and when it came, it arrived when I least expected it. Someone shouted my name from across the street, waking me from sleep. I hurriedly threw on my clothes and dashed toward the door. “What’s the matter?” I asked when I reached the man. “What happened to Debby?” The man looked shaken, as though he hadn’t even spoken yet, but somehow I already knew why he was there. “I’d rather take you there myself,” he said. “Don’t let me tell you.” The words hit me hard as I grabbed my head and followed him. Shortly after, we arrived. And there she was. Debby’s body lay lifeless on the ground. <img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG_7055.jpeg"/> I couldn’t believe my eyes. “What happened?” I asked. The man replied, “She was sent to get fuel, and a car came speeding… it swerved and knocked her down.” Those words dropped me to the ground. I wept like a newborn child. Then suddenly, the voice came again, and I realized maybe it had never been the wrong memo after all. It said to me, “You both had not even been intimate yet, and this still happened.” The voice began to laugh. I tried to shut it out, but I couldn’t. At that moment, I questioned it—should this even matter now? Why intimacy at a time like this? Why not grieve with me instead of reminding me of what we never got to do? And that was when I understood: <blockquote>Love can sometimes mean pain, and it can sometimes mean hurt.</blockquote> Miss you, Debby. I hope you can see that I truly still care ❤️

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