I can always tell when my life is in slight disarray. It starts with the refusal to put pen to paper. It’s like my life blood, a form of therapy that doesn’t cost £75 an hour. It still requires me to recount endless childhood traumas, but at least I don’t have to pay for the privilege. So, when I avoid it, I know that something is deeply wrong.
Oh a boy you say, of course a boy.
I shan’t go into the deep dark depths of romantic relationships. But, this is probably the first time I have truly felt something of this nature. Something that felt so whole, so complete, so utterly everything that I was convinced it couldn’t be real. It wasn’t. Or at least, the facade quickly faded. Life has its funny ways, people have their funny ways. Change happens far too frequently and while we look to each other for stability – unfortunately the most fickle in all of it, is us.
And so we changed.
Our company became strained. We were fighting for something that wasn’t the same any more. Searching desperately to bring ourselves back to a shore that had been lost by the waves and the more we searched, the more lost we became.