No you left.
This is a line from a poem written by my friend Bhee in our salad days. In those days,we wrote poetry about purging an undying love from our systems.
Purging: To free yourself from impurities;purify. To rid of sin, guilt or defilement. To remove impurities as if by cleansing.
Ancient purging methods consisted of drinking potions and mixtures that made people throw up to rid themselves of disease or illness. Another more extreme method of purging was blood-letting. Blood-letting, once the most widely and commonly practiced medical exercises, was loosely based on the theory that diseases were caused by plethoras, or overabundances, in the blood and advised that these plethoras be treated through exercise , sweating, vomiting and finally, bleeding. Our naivety, our youthfulness;dictated to us that 'love' was an illness, an imbalance of hormones in our normal circulation. One that we needed to be rid of by seeping it from our bodies until we were normal again. Like a really bad hangover, or a toxic chemical addiction. I clearly hadn't been in love.
Now having had loved , I realise that purging would be the less painful; much, much easier option. It's my fault though. I love intensely. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I get caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and sacrifice so much of myself that at times I fail to see anything but that love. My love is less an 'illness' or infection, and more a Possession.A spiritual Possession. Love becomes me. It only makes sense then, that to rid myself of this love, I must be exorcised of it.
The opposite of an exorcism is an evocation. In the English language, two things can be evoked. Spirits and emotions. Coincidence? I think not. Unlike diseases, that weaken the body;love causes irrationality, supernatural strength and pure insanity. Enter the aptly titled Crime of Passion. Imagine if you will, being so engulfed by your feelings for someone, that you feel compelled to kill them. Love as rage. Love as insanity. Love, if only to drum this point in, as a Possession. Love has long been immortalised in art as a longing, a desire, a hankering. A stirring in the soul that can not be unstirred. Wars have been fought over love. Lives lost. How then, can it be explained as anything else? Even scientists acknowledge love, or rather falling in love, as a result of chemical imbalances in the brain. What they cant explain is why it lasts so long? What they cant tell us, is how to fix it?
And so I propose a Love Exorcism. I propose that these emotions should be forcefully and painfully driven out. That they should know they have NO place possessing you. That you should or can be complete without them. I am Linda Nkosi, and I am NOT in love.
Sigh, but I'm open to persuasion.
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