Slow motion.

There are two moments in which time slows. The first is when you realise how deeply you love someone. The world moves slower and you watch as the dimples begin to form in their cheeks. You see the soft lines spread at the corners of their eyes, and you find yourself smiling at them. The second is when you’re in deep agony. Those around you don’t slow this time, just you. You move at sluggish pace, everything a whirl, everything a drain. People rush on by and you move at a glacial pace. You feel nothing but want to, desperately.

            I’m sure both these moments are designed to give you an epiphany or a sense of purpose, and maybe just to make you realise you’re nothing in the grand scheme of things. Either way, time is the only constant and yet in these moments it feels like it drags on forever. He had caused both of these inclinations in my life. I had felt time stand still when he was around. My heart would beat in my throat, as I watched him tell me with great animation about motorcycles he liked and why others were shithouse. I had danced my fingers through his hair, as he told me his deepest secrets and worry plagued his face. I had seen myself with him, old, grey and together but I had also felt the world blur by when I realised he will leave. That I’m not enough. I never am.

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