Desperation does not exist when we are alone, but rather when we are lonely. We lower our expectations, morals even values, all in the hope of finding someone who will share in our loneliness. And by some off chance, they will make it just a little bit more bearable. But because the people we attract when we are desperate for a companion are all lesser than what we know we deserve we are ultimately and inevitably left disappointed. This is not as bad as one imagines, for it is in that disappointment that we pick ourselves back up and realise that we want more, and then we almost become ourselves again. For we were never alone, and in God’s ever-presence lie all the answers. Artists write about love and heartbreak and everything in-between, and one artist wrote that “Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralysed by it. I’d like to be my old self again, but I’m still trying to find it”. That’s what I feel like. I’m still trying to find the person that I was before. He brought something so pure and wonderful out of me. I loved who I was when I loved him and he loved me. But time confuses me, because I feel myself moving forward ever so slowly and looking back less and less, but when I do look into the past I see not only him in all his beauty, but also the rainbow of myself that I handed to him so freely. He has not and will not ever return my soul to me. My colourful, passionate soul. For if he returns it, he is left an empty shell of a man.