Maybe

I woke up this morning, itching to write this down.
It's short, it's bittersweet and I don't really foretell any more of it in the near future.
Putting pen to paper's my way of mockery, revenge and justice.
Maybe this is a mixture, because I definitely wrote it with a mixture of feelings.

Featuring my favourite word : Maybe.

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1. Prologue

People are often sceptic as to where you can actually find love.

I’m slightly wary myself.

I reluctantly accept that love exists. I’d be delusional if I denied it. It’s everywhere. And God knows it needs to be. But as an author, I find it’s best to question everything and anything in all of your characters, and their situations. So this morning, I started wondering as to where you can actually find it. And when does love actually start? 

 

Doesn't everything start and end with love? Conception, birth, death? It's blurry because it happens all the time. Then again, that’s why I find it the easiest thing to write about. You find it everywhere... It’s real, but surreal, ethereal, it’s relatable. Everyone’s experienced it, in some kind of way. But when in a relationship would it start, how far along – does it really all depend on the people involved? If it does, then can you care to explain to me why and how the same two people in my head end up having perfectly rational relationships every single time they meet, but their relationships have different time spans, different experiences and different outcomes? It’s a sign of madness – repeating the same thing over and over again expecting the same outcome. It’s ludicrous. This world doesn't work like that.

 

Everything needs to be put into context. Like it or not. And it’s weird because it hit me this morning, not unlike an epiphany: Time, manner and place don’t always equal context (no matter what GCSE English Lit. says). I don't really believe in the 'multiple universe' theorem, but that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it constantly.

 

Time after time I find myself dreaming up a scenario where two of my favourite ‘characters’ would meet, and it would be a short meeting - it might not even go further than that. This morning the scenario came easily, begging me to write it down. I complied, as soon as I managed to find a pen.

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