You try to be cool but to no avail. Unknowingly you are cool when you least know it. You are cool when you strut in the street caring nothing about the world. You are cool when you light your cigarette without care, just thinking about having a drag and staring at nothingness, past the world around you because your mind is somewhere; you care about nothing, you are detached and nothing can hurt you.
You are invisible. Nothing binds you to something. You are tied not to a single soul; everybody is just a face, a name, a character to you that exists as mere subject of your observation. You watch them and that is it; they cannot reach you.
Everything you do is for the kick of doing it. You are studying, you tell yourself as you grin your way out of unscrupulous acts and violence. It is as if you were shielded by this mindset from getting killed, shot or stabbed, or from dying. You grin and smirk because you always get out intact, with physical bruises, yet still spiritually intact.
You care nothing about your women. There are there within reach. You are tied not to a single soul, do you remember? What the hell if they cried because of you. They are just women craving for your attention because they see that you are cool, that you have potentials, and you say a lot of crap about life, about the real life that you think you know a lot about. When something wrong happens, you tell them that you just gave and let them live the love story they endeared themselves. “It’s all in your mind, honey.”
Then suddenly, you lose your cool, sign that you begin now to care and you will get hurt. Indeed, you are already hurt, somebody has penetrated your shield; you are bind unconsciously to somebody. Now you see how she had had let herself fall from the heaven of innocence, how she had had fought her way to reach you.
Now you are wrecked. You are hurt and could feel the pain. You are wrecked in the marrow of your soul. Your angel of innocence has swept down into the maw of the monster that you are a part of, and you saw how her soul beaten up, her pretty, innocent face muddied to know your world.
And now you are wrecked; wrecked and in pain. You light your cigarette with trembling hands. Each drag intensifies the depth of pain you are going through.
Then, finally, you cry.
And you know from then on that you are bind to somebody; that you are no longer cool, that you can get hurt because you care, that you no longer just see to observe but to feel.
And it is Love.