Yesterday, I was sitting outside of a cafe and I looked up at the sky and the clouds were mauve and pink and orange. And I dared anyone to say that the world wasn't beautiful. I was in love with life, the moment. Time suspended.

Today, I saw you, we spoke, we hugged and I didn't tell you how badly I wanted to caress you, make love to you. When you left, I punched the walls until my fingers bled. I cried. I wished I was dead.

I don't know how this works, I don't whose dirty trick this is. It torments me then provides me with bliss. Or vice versa. This life, with me feeling things so intensely. Always. Those clouds, they are the reason my knuckles are stained with blood. I love too intensely. I love you and now you are no longer. You are gone. I can never see you again because what we had was too beautiful for me to resist. To not jump right in. I can't help it. Do you see? That all I can ever have are memories of you, and not you.

Yesterday, I dared anyone to say that the world wasn't beautiful.