Replacement

If I could be stripped of everything bar one defining fragment of my life, what would it be?1

Up until about two years ago, I would have told you with no hesitation that it would be music. My salvation for 18 years that never judged me, that cradled me when I was broken and nurtured me when I was ill. You see, I'd never placed much value in family or friends. Family were spiteful and damaging, like the thorns of a rosebush. Now and then you'd find the treasure in amongst it that would just bloom, that would lure you in with a sweet smell and pretty disposition. It just hurt too much to get to them. So why bother.2

Friends were no better. Friends had no obligation to you, no need to keep you safe, keep you together. A human being is far too easily replaced, and I loathe the feeling of being disposable. Oh yes, I'm far too self important to allow myself to feel that way.3

I've never placed value in material possessions either, because they were just as fleeting.4

So it was no surprise that my life revolved around haunting melodies and shimmering sounds that could delight me, placate me, enrage me and energise me.5

When I sank into my deepest depression, I had sounds that would greet me there and carry me back to normality - as close to normal as a manic depressive teenager could hope to get. I've always felt very blessed to have a voice like I do, to be able to sing from the very depths of myself, to reach from my own self inflicted desolation and communicate it in some way to photographs that watched in frozen silence.6

So as you can see, to replace that influence in my life would be very difficult.7

Two years ago I found myself face to face with the centre of my universe. He had an easy smile that reached his eyes, an awkward disposition that tried so hard to be casual, and the most gentle hands I have ever come in to contact with. He laughed, and it was a real laugh. He was so constantly delighted with everything, and I immediately felt at ease with him. Having come out of a series of bad relationships, I was tentative about getting involved in any more. My reluctance must have been what hindered him from actually trying to make something of us sooner.8

It was 6 months before he burst through the walls of my life, like sunshine on fire.9

Suddenly I had a set of hands to lift me when I fell, to carry me when I was weak. His voice became my music, and I would have sold my soul for it to never leave my ears. I was quite fortunate that he had already taken it upon himself to stick around forever.10

I was terrified at first, anxious about how everything with him felt like a whirlwind, living together, being together all the time. Everyone in my life could see what an improvement he had made on me. One even went so far to comment on how it looked as though my feet were now on steady ground, that I didn't appear to be close to floating away anymore.11

I could never try to let go of him. I don't feel that my hands would release their grip. Never before have I been so free to be myself but so connected to another person at the same time. With my eyes on him, I could never feel lost and my world would never be dark again. Any other loss could only be superficial.