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Image by Drew Beamer




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When Understanding Dawns

It feels like it should be different: it should all be different.


Last night, the growing storm in my head reflected the growing storm outside: fierce, stinging darts of rain. A ‘lazy’ wind blowing right through me: strong, powerful, cold. Disorienting and unstoppable, a whirling dervish.


Eventually I tried to huddle in on myself to keep warm and sheltered and I prayed it would soon end. I could not close my eyes in case I was lost, but eventually both the storm and I collapsed exhausted.


This morning I stretched widely, then curled back in on myself due to the pain and foreboding.

“Has it all gone? Is it lost?!”

“No.” The reply is puzzled, a little dismissive. Incredulous: “The garden enjoyed the wash, I think.”


A ‘wash’! That torrent of torment that still echoes in my skull?! ‘Enjoyed?’ Is it not in desperate pain, as I am!? Ow! I should stop shouting so loudly.


I look out and the garden is clean and calm, crisp and cool.


Did I take on its pain?? What’s happening?


The red wine still slowly spills from the upturned glass beside me; the bottles surround it like a moat. 



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July 30th, Friday

Dear Diary,

I can’t get her out of my mind. I simply can’t.

I adore how her blonde hair sparkles when she emerges from the sea. I adore her hazel brown eyes, they are such a twinkling delight to look into. But most of all, I adore how she isn’t afraid to be herself.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m no match for her – she’s too confident, too bold in her approach. She has probably friend-zoned me. I’ve seen all of her other guy “friends” who are always waiting by the beach for her. I can see how their ears perk up when she arrives, especially Big Guy Jack. He hovers around her like a dog waiting to pounce on a bird – so desperate. I promised myself that I’ll be a gentleman. She is a lady worthy of love and affection, so much so that I’m willing to risk my life for her. Diabetes is no joke of a disease, mum told me that. She said I need to be home for my insulin shots every night, but Frosty is worth at least one missed shot.

Yesterday, I snuck out of the house when my babysitter came. I ran down to Power Station Beach, almost knocking over my neighbour Bruce who was out for a walk. I was certain she was there. The moon was out, shining in full glory. The insects were scat singing loudly in full jazz fashion. The air was sickeningly humid but even that didn’t bother me. I just knew I had to see her and tell her how I felt.

Her scent lingered on the path and I followed it. At last, there she was – by the water, her usual spot. She saw me run towards her and to my relief, she ran towards me, too! My heart! But suddenly, I was tackled from the side and found myself lying on the sand with my face smashed in. When I looked up, I saw Big Guy Jack. He gritted his teeth and for a moment, I was scared shitless.

Frosty was panting when she got to the crime scene but she gently nudged me with her nose and those hazel eyes gazed deep into my soul. She told Jack to go home and that she wanted to be left alone. When he refused, she gritted her teeth, too. I got up hastily and let out a meek bark, still feeling a little dizzy. Jack finally backed down and retreated like the sore loser he is.

Then, she put her white paw on mine and asked, “What took you so long?”


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