Rebuilding the walls after my first failed relationship took some time, I was so destroyed that for the longest time I almost didn’t realise that I’d actually been given one of the biggest gifts, confidence.
I was stronger, I was a whole skill level up from where I had started, and things could only improve. I was powerful, fearless, the strongest I had ever been!
I became a builder of walls, structures, and anything else that would protect me from the pain of love and I was good at it, or so I thought.
Little did I know that I would have to rebuild a thousand more of my walls over the coming years on this journey we call love, and that I should have been a hell of a lot less cocky in the beginning.
But still, a gift it was and in high spirits I stayed, and on a red-hot Saturday, in the centre of my home town, the love bug struck again.
I looked like shit (I had been running late as usual) i had no time to sort out my hair and I was praying that he wouldn’t notice, he was already waiting for me and I could tell he was nervous as hell, he was dressed head to toe in black and looked like he had just left one of two things, a funeral or an interview. I remember him looking so out-of-place in a town filled with people in shorts, but I didn’t care, there was something about him, not quite held together but not quite falling apart, when he spoke I wanted to listen, I wanted to know him, and he drew me in. I found myself getting lost in his face, the curved tip of his nose, the uneven growth of his facial hair, the way his defined brow framed his….
….I hadn’t noticed but he’d been watching me too, his eyes met mine and at that moment the sun hit them, lit them up as if a fire was burning behind them, like a light behind beautiful stained-glass windows, I was captivated and nothing else would matter after that.