[m]

When our eyes meet, finally, after a time that feels like an eternity, I feel myself shrinking, so much pressure within my chest that my heart feels like it's literally about to shatter.
Because when you look at me, it's as if you see every sad thing imaginable, every single tragedy that has struck close to you, all of your bad memories. Everything negative seems to hang around me when your eyes are on me, and I can't help but bite down on my lip as I feel tears welling up in my eyes.
Every inch of me wants to beg you not to look at me like that, but all that comes out of my mouth is an apology in a broken voice. You smile apologetically, and suddenly it's not just my voice that's broken.
Not only has seeing you torn me to shreds, it's installed a sense of longing that I thought I had left behind a long time ago. But no, your deep and tired eyes bring it all back.
A minute passes and my hand is covered in blood and shards of glass; and both of us are broken now.

Part I

It begins. A small gap of light piercing through the total darkness that surrounds you, your hand shooting up automatically to shield your eyes from the sudden burst of light. You turn on the spot, examining the ground you were on mere seconds ago, lowering your hand to your side as your eyes adjust. 

There are long dips along the dirt around where you've been, random patterns and the imprint of your body still linger as the light behind you grows bigger, in size as well as in intensity. Where's it coming from? Why is it so bright? Is it a way out, some way to get back to where this all started? Hell, maybe it's just a trap to make you sink even further than you have. But you have to take the risk. 

You approach the light, stretching your fingers towards it until they finally start to blend into it, disappearing as you slowly push your hand deeper and deeper. 

A brusque change of temperature greets your fingertips as they meet a new air, the feeling slowly creeping down your hand and arm as you explore blindly.

You gasp in shock and surprise as something pulls you right through it. 

None of it

We both stand, listening to the sea that lies in front of us as the angry waves of a rising tide crash into the rocks, hundreds of tiny, minuscule drops of salty water bouncing back off of them and flying in every direction, as unpredictable as ever. A lot of the drops land on us, the cool spray refreshing our skin under the hot sun. We talk about a lot of things, but nothing particularly memorable. In fact, all either of us care to remember is that we spend most of the seaside conversation is the way the other laughs and the small changes in our voices when we're smiling (or trying not to). 

And no thoughts of impending doom, no amount of miles, no reminders of broken hearts, no pictures of old times or voice recordings can make a difference, not when you bring those moments back to mind. Nothing matters when I remember us, none of it.

M.

Muchas personas han pasado por mi vida, pero pocas han estado en ella en el momento en el que diese un cambio, muchos menos me han ayudado a dar los pasos necesarios para emprender una nueva dirección en mi vida. 

Cuando miro al mar, pienso en tres personas, yo mismo el primero. El mar, a veces tan sereno que parece que no hay olas y otras veces tan caótico que le cambia la vida entera a alguna criatura que se adentró en el momento equivocado. 

Pero los buenos marineros no provienen de mares tranquilos; son aquellos que sobreviven a una gran tormenta y vuelven a navegar guiándose por las estrellas.

Y tú te lanzaste al centro la tormenta antes de que me diera cuenta de que estabas lo suficientemente cerca como para ver los rayos que estaba lanzando sin atenerme a las consecuencias de lo que estaba haciendo hasta que uno de ellos cayó sobre ti y tú te convertiste en el mar agitado con sus olas enfadadas.

[star]

Sometimes the words flow as easily as a wave crashes against it's rock, like a raindrop rolling down a window. Other times, they simply stay with you; you have no way of liberating the somehow organised chaos that lies within you. The words are trapped, as if an invisible barrier were between them and your fingertips or the tip of your tongue. You have no way of letting them out, not the impossible of crumpled-up sheets of paper, no matter how many times you write and re-write a sentence, none of the frustrated punches you throw is enough to set your thoughts free. 
So, take a step back from your space. Take a deep breath and let your thoughts rest for a second. Work your way around whatever it is that's stopping you from creating something even greater than you made last time. Let your body guide you through the process of demonstrating to the world what you're truly capable of. Show the world what it didn't know it needed until you came along. 

To: A.

You left.
No warning, no goodbye, no nothing. Everything I had built you up to be, collapsed in seconds as you disappeared into the distance. There was nothing but watery eyes and a bitter taste that lasted until long after your presence, the memories of you had gone.
But that was long ago. We've grown since our eyes had last met. Yours are deeper, as if you've witnessed or been a part of something that would either fix a soul completely or tear it shreds, though the changing tone of colour makes it seem as if you can't quite decide which one it was. Your smile is as bright as ever, and suddenly I remember why I could never truly consider you ànything other than someone to admire, though sometimes all I wanted was for you to die.
It's funny, in a way. I spent a long time running away from you, when all I should have done was accept you. I'm sorry for making you go through so many unnecessary bad nights and awful days.
I hope you remember the lessons that came from all the mistakes we made. After all, they were all the same ones.

Drip-drop

Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop. The rain falls soft yet firmly, sliding down the window pane as it's modest droplets make contact with the speeding train that you stare out of, the scattering raindrops fading in and out of your vision, intertwining with the fields and grey sky that always seem to help you get yourself back to your usual self.
But it doesn't seem to be working today. No, all the gloomy weather and the lack of company seem to be doing is making you slip more into yourself than ever before, the music blasting through your headphones leading your thoughts towards the days that you thought would never end, reminding you of the slumps that you had to pull yourself out of for the best part of your late-teens. Those years seemed to have stolen from you before you even had time to appreciate them; or maybe you threw them away, convinced that you had no future.
You look down at your phone when you realise that you haven't been heard any music for at least thirty seconds- it's been interrupted by a sudden influx of messages from the person you said goodbye to an hour or two ago. Their messages come one word at a time, which means that they're either really bored or somehow know to distract you from yourself. You smile down at the screen, like you always do when this person talks to you like this.
By the time you open that messages, you have at least two dozen, all in capital letters, all combining into a phrase that makes you laugh out loud with a train full of people that turn to look at you. You can't help but smile when the person that interrupted one of your favourite songs starts to write their sentences together, as opposed to making your phone feel like it's about to blow up.
And then you realise that maybe the time you lost as a teenager, all the missed opportunities, the torn self-esteem and the shredded memories of your childhood were something that you could finally take back from the clutches of the part of you that wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth, the part of you that you had to overcome to discover who you truly were.
You make a note to thank everyone that has helped you and seen you grow and change from the broken teen to a healthy(ish) young adult that you are now, and look out the window once again, but this time feeling proud of yourself for coming as far as you have.