To lose yourself in another.

It wasn’t until midday had passed that the clouds rolled in, dark grey and ominous. The earlier sunshine seemed to disappear, removed so completely by those thick clouds that even the memory of it seemed distant. 

Somehow, the playground was suddenly deserted. 

Not even the ring of laughter lingered; the gaudy colours becoming garish against the foreboding sky. Thunder rumbled deeply overhead. 

Blinking against the gentle rain, she tread gently over the soft grass, her face lifted to the chill breeze. She seemed to be searching; her eyes wandered restlessly over the sky. 

He hadn’t become aware of stopping until he realized her soft, wet feet were bringing her closer. His eyes followed, encapsulated, and he felt a flush rising to his chest. 

He could see her clearly now; dark hair and darker eyes, she moved slowly with gentle grace. Her lips moved as she walked, forming words that none could hear as she gazed intently upwards. Her face was a mask of wonder, her deep brown eyes alight with intent curiosity. 

Suddenly, she noticed him; the full weight of her wide eyes falling abruptly to him.

For a moment, his breath caught; their eyes met, green to brown.

He could see every small pearl of water that clung to her thick green jacket, every blade of wet grass that hung from her pants, every strand of hair that fell in damp curls along her shoulders. Her eyes fixed on him, sparking recognition. Her rich lips parted slightly, a small breath touching the air. 

Above them, the clouds parted, flooding the underbrush in a sudden wash of light. The ground became a vibrant green, glimmering as the sun caught the dew drops on the ground. 

His eyes never left her, though. 

The sunlight bathed her in a golden hue, shimmering through her hair and touching her cheeks with colour. She blinked against the brightness, shaking hair from her face. 

And he found himself stepping towards her, calm and sure. She held her hand out to him, her brown eyes never leaving his face. 

With a sigh, he took it, enveloping her small, soft fingers in his. 

With that sigh, he let go; he let go of his job and those he knew. He let go of the world and surrendered himself to her. 

And, hand in hand, they disappeared, existing together and only together. 

Intrinsically linked, two as one. 

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Dear Allyson Grey,

I’m jealous of you. 

Insanely jealous of you. 

Not only do you get to wake up next to one of the most interesting and spiritually connected people in the world, you’re the only woman who deserves to be experiencing that journey with him. 

Which only makes me more jealous; you’re a talented and beautiful person who has a life that I’ll never have, and has experienced things that I probably never will. 


You make it very difficult to hate you, which puts my perspective of you into the category of envious admiration. And, I believe, you’re the only woman in the world who is deserving of that from me. 

You are the only person on this planet that I would ever admit to being simply, unrighteously and completely unfairly hatefully jealous of.

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There are only …

There are only two tragedies in life; one is not getting what one wants, and the other, is getting it.

Oscar Wilde

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What is friendship.

‘My closest friend is..’ 


Not a friend at all. 

My closest friend isn’t someone linked to me by affection or fondness. They aren’t someone who gives me assistance, or to whom I am on good terms with. 

My closest friend, is someone who is intrinsically linked with me, mentally, spiritually. It’s a platonic relationship between me and those few who have found a way into the pit that is my head; those that can navigate what I am, and those that I can navigate as freely. 

There is no sexuality, or physicality, between me and them; only a deep understanding that doesn’t need gratification, or acknowledgment. It is someone who finds symphonies in a silence, who reads volumes in a look; someone that knows me wholly, completely, as I them. 


No, my closest friend isn’t a friend at all. 

They’re something else entirely.

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If only, if only, I could cure all hurt.

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget the intrinsic nature of this; the constant cycle of life and death, death and life. 

And it’s easy to ask, why? 

Why me, why now, why this. 

Loss is something almost impossible to grasp. It leaves this gap, this blackened hole, that you can’t fill with words or tears or human touch. It stays and it grows, feeding on grief and despair. 

And, when you love someone, their loss becomes yours; objectively, yet subjectively, you feel it. It’s like, somehow, through your empathy, it’s seeped into you. 

It’s impossible to shake.

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