A small hand embraces the rough stem of a scarlet rose, the thorns biting the fragile skin, sending a stinging and scaring the then delicate hand yet, the grip is not loosened.. Time is suspended into breaths, unmoving. The image manifests, bringing forth the meaning of bittersweet. With it, a low voice is heard, disturbing the stillness of my mind. It whispers luring and seductively, pulling me into the dark corners of memories I have long forgotten.. The timber and graveness is unmistakable; it's the voice of one of my favorite singers. His voice sings along with the low register of cellos, giving my body a sense of despair. "Break this bittersweet spell on me" he sings to me, one of my favorite songs.

Until the moment I heard that seductive voice sing "Bittersweet", I had never understood its meaning. The word itself became my teacher, and I willingly accepted its teachings. Bittersweet meant more than loving unconditionally, more than becoming addicted to the pain because you loved the person causing it. It meant more than just the sensation of sweetness and bitterness resting on your tongue, making your taste buds buzz in confusion. Bittersweet meant despair and acceptance, both intertwined into one being. Bittersweet was life.

Life was a beautiful rose in a garden, sitting still.. However beautiful it may be, under it lies the slithery snake of temptation, cooing words of sweetness. Its thorns bite at you, hurt and anger you, just to see how much you can take and still hold on. It challenges you, wondering whether you'd just hold on to its withering pieces, or let its petals wither into the wind. Life is bittersweet, it blesses and condemned you, just to see if you are willing to try again after you have fallen down. Life is a bittersweet spell.