Collateral Damage
"An observation of the 'aftermath' of a choice. The figures are rendered in a state of suspended collapse, connected by a sharp, linear force that leaves no room for escape. it represents the moment where a single action ripples outward, proving that in the geometry of a relationship, you can never wound just one person without striking the other."
I’ve realized that I no longer have a mood of my own. My emotional state has become a mirror, a satellite orbiting her heart. Whether we are talking or just staring at each other through a screen, I feel the shift in the air before she even speaks. Whatever I started the day with stress, tension, a quiet mind it all vanishes the moment I hear her voice. One "cute" word from her and the world resets. It’s a boon, a miracle, a sudden clearing of the sky.
But there is a price for that kind of connection.
When she is sad, the air in my room turns cold. I start to feel that familiar, uneasy ache in my chest. I don't just witness her pain; I absorb it. It’s like this arrow in my sketch it started with her, but it didn't stop there. It traveled through the space between us and lodged itself in me, too. Her pain is my pain now. It’s a shared wound, a synchronized descent into the dark.
I chose this. I chose to be anchored by this love because I’d rather be hurt with her than be fine without her because when I am with her just her presence makes me the happiest person.
Some might call it damage, but I see it as a responsibility. Because the arrow connects us, I can feel exactly where it hurts her. And that’s why I’ll try even harder. I’ll work twice as much to make that pain go away, because as long as she’s carrying it, I am too. We are two figures suspended in the same trajectory, tethered by a single strike. I am the collateral damage of her heartbeat, and honestly? I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.