'The perfectly shadowed version of love'

Just a little sneak-peak of what I have seen and classify as pure un-touched love. It made my heart melt. I hope it melts yours too.

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1. That funny little thing we call love

This little girl was wise beyond her years; she knew what most adults couldn’t wrap their head around. But when there’s a good side, there has to be a bad one. She was a social reject for most of her years until her middle teens when most people knew her name even if she hadn’t spoke to them. Once again the balance was there, her grades paid for it in return. Her dreams of being in the veterinary career were slowly disintegrating. She’d still love to follow that path but the thought of all the college and university work scared her to death. She wouldn’t be able to cope with the stress and what was worse was that she had haters who made her feel so down and useless that she suffered from depression. She’s stay up in her room and cry, the counselling wasn’t helping. She resorted to self harm to feel in control, it made her feel stronger after a breakdown. But the strange thing is, this girl grew up with loving parents and family but still managed to suffer from depression regardless. She was an angry soul who was confused on who she was herself. She had no self confidence, she would try to starve herself but when she failed to, and she punished herself with self harm. It was a continuous aggressive cycle. Inside she was breaking apart, her life wasn’t worth living, and it’d be a benefit to everyone if she was just gone. But one thing held her where she was. Her comfort blanket. Not material but flesh. She was her world, her everything, but most of all, her baby. She was what she lived for. The scent and touch of her made her feel safe and protected; it brought unlimited joy to her crashing world, a glimmer of hope. Just that gave her willpower to carry on through her nightmare. Nothing else had that sort of power over her. It was like this comfort blanket held the decision of whether this girl kept going or not on her shoulders. A decision she probably didn’t know she was making. Friendship is a beautiful thing, a creation of pure love and devotion. And pure love was what they had. A bond built with un-breakable chains that you could wear down to the last centimetre but wouldn’t break through anything. I hope this girl and her comfort blanket’s bond never breaks, for that could be the worst thing that could possibly happen to this little girl. That is what you call pure love. A need for somebody or an object regardless to what they can offer or provide for you.

I love you Beashan

My world My everything My baby

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