There’s a memory of me submerged in the bath during the weeks of my breakdown. Motionless for the best part of an hour, the water was slowly turning cold, but it didn’t seem to matter that much. Guilt is a terrible thing, and yet, in the long run, I guess it set me free from a way of being I wasn’t meant for. In many ways, I wish I was like the rest of them, but normality and acceptance are meaningless compared to the sensations writing has allowed me to embrace. It’s a shame it took trauma to open my eyes and get these fingers typing away, but I’m just thankful it happened full stop. It’s been nearly three years now. Three years since I fucked up that relationship. Three years since I laid out my love only to have it left there to sit in silence. But it was all my own fault. To think of how numb I had become. When was the last time I had cried before that night? When Sarah and I were told about Bethany? More than likely. To think of all those nights when the bottle kept me together. To think of how much of a lie my life had become. I thought love would save me, but how can you ever expect love to bring salvation when you’re only looking for a way out? How can you claim to be in awe of someone when you feel so dislocated from who you are inside? Life can be such a mess. It can slip through your fingers and bite you on the arse, and yet it’s always beautiful. Even when sadness balloons inside your chest and takes away your breath, it will always be a perfect ride, because it’s the only ride we’ll ever get to make. Let the storm take you. Let it lift you off your feet and break you down until your face is in the dirt and you’re struggling to breathe. Every ounce of pain, and every ounce of shame- helping you to be who you want to be. Those around you that glide through life never contemplating the nature of who and what they are? Let them go. One day, someday, there will be a moment when your fears will take you to a plateau far out of reach of everything you have no need for.