My Secret Story - Epilogue

Tap, tap. Hello neighbour. Tap, tap, tap.

There was something in His eyes that told me He was the one. He felt the same things I felt, thought the same way I thought. He was special and I was almost certain that He knew it. He was by any count nothing special to look at, but for some peculiar reason I took a detached liking to his appearance. The nameless ‘He’ was a good 20 kilograms overweight with pale, speckled skin that was host to a variety of interesting scars and blemishes; putting His arm through a glass panel as a young boy, jumping from a tree, cutting His throat in my bed; all the happy times shown in an array of bumpy, pallid imperfections that begged the question:

Why on earth do you love Him, Elysha?

What do you see in His plain brown eyes that makes them seem so shiny, or in His dirty black hair that you find so attractive? What could it possibly be, that you find so completely and utterly indispensable about Him?

And consequently I would learn a great deal about what it was that I found so essential about Him. It was a connection that took a full 2 and a half years to break, and when it did I was left completely helpless, a miserable lump of flesh without purpose or direction.

And so it began.