The Diaries of Grey: The Beginning

"It's been said that we really only fall in love with three people in our lifetime."

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"And the third is the love we never see coming. The one that usually comes dressed as all wrong for us and that destroys any lingering ideals we clung to about what love is supposed to be." 

"It's the love that just feels right."

Two things that have changed my view on life entirely. 

Probably because its true. 

Possibly because Grey is unlike anything I've ever encountered before. 

The question is: What do I plan to do with this new information. These new feelings.

It feels like coming home.

It feels like being wanted. 

It feels like being complete. 

It feels genuine. 

It feels unique. 

It feels like, dare I say it? 

The beginning of something extraordinary.

Planets

I believed I had found my soulmate

         until fate dropped me off a cliff with no               parachute.

I thought I had hit rock bottom.

But in reality someone caught me 

right before I landed.

And fate showed me that I should

have looked to earth instead of the stars.

Learning. Slowly.  But learning. With the help of friends.

Reckless

I turned away from Reason
                            SettlEd into apathy.
                     Started Chasing danger
                      Would Kill to feel adrenaline.
                                   Left little of my former
              When I gavE into insanity.
                                  Slowly losing hope
                    SeamleSsly turning cold.

Desolate

 Have you ever studied how a basket is woven? The handmade kind. I have always loved the concept. Even made a few in an art class as a kid.

Imagine a basket that you've started, but grew bored of making, so you shoved it somewhere till you found inspiration again.

Imagine you somehow picked up a random extra color, but just kept weaving it in anyways.

He was my random strand, but I kept weaving him in anyways, and before I knew it, I had a beautiful design, in an otherwise plain basket.

He was green to my bleak world, and then he left, leaving me with a colorless life.

What do you do with the basket? Put it on display for people to see? Risk that they'll ask what inspired you to add that random strand? The one that made such an intricate and beautiful design?

Do you burn it? Hoping the sorrows blow away with its ashes?

Or do you carefully place it in a box, that you hide in the depths of your closet, along with the rest of those memories. Where you know its there, but its possible to semi forget?

I have a basket, that serves no purpose.