as i rushed to build a new community of my own, filled with sticks, stones and my own bones, i forgot to mourn what i had left behind. you tell me nothing lasts forever; yet, i will find a way to salvage what i had poured my heart and soul into building, because i refuse to --i cannot-- believe that it is over, that i am no longer a community but my own person, that i am now inherently and deeply alone.

i couldn't wait for my community to fall apart, so i could rebuild a new one. i convinced myself there were too many cracks in the foundation, that it was imperfect, that i truly didn't belong... but love is love, and even black sheep like me can find it in the oddest places. People are not jigsaw puzzles, i realise now, and neither is love; we never fit, there are always roughed edges, sawdust-- We manage to love anyway.