No! THIS is England.
I'd like you all to bear in mind that these two pieces are written very early in the morning (Clearly, I'm not making excuses).
She came from Burlington. Burlington is in South Ontario and has an area of seventy-twp square miles and as of 2006 the population 164, 415. I’d read up about it, I wasn’t obsessive! Just… attentive. By all accounts the people of Burlington were kind of miserable, possibly, I think they were probably feeling the loss of her. I could imagine there’d be a large empty space of missing beauty, talent, sincerity and Canadian-ness. Definitely the Canadian-ness.
It was surreal to meet her, fine she was beautiful- all the clichés I could imagine couldn’t quite do her justice. But she said things like ace and she called me kiddo which made me feel both special and intimidated. She had that affect on me that was unfamiliar- I was, at the time, in the midst of an Oscar Wilde phase. Everyone around me had to be patronised, I was pretentious and everything was trivial, all because I’d read The Picture of Dorian Gray and was a higher breed of human intellect because of it! Somehow my literary choices made my shit smell sweeter and made it classically trained! But around her I was nothing, just a boy who was lucky enough to get picked up by some Canadian Rose. I felt safe, I felt secure and I slept.
This last point was important. Sleep after all, is for the weak! But I was functioning (as I am now) on the bare minimum of sleep. But the calm she instilled in me left me to sleep in peace.
Her brown, somewhat messy hair was a serene sight whether it was sunshine or cloud that covered my world and her kind green eyes soothed my ailing heartbeat. I loved her. She said the same back, but she didn’t mean it. Promises were made and then broken, situations were set up and then made uncomfortable and opportunities to kiss her came and went without incident and I was left wondering. Insecurity then instability then insanity the alliteration was abhorrent to me.
But I am ahead of myself. The simple, clichéd and disgusting fact was that I loved her from the very first moment I met her. A sad fact but unfortunately true and for three months I was close to happy.
I had made mistakes, that much is true. But I didn’t see it coming. She moved on to college and everything changed overnight. We argued, she broke my heart and I sulked and put my Lego away forever. Such loss, much like the feeling of loss I felt when Due South was cancelled and I stopped seeing Benton Fraser every other day. A sort of emptiness like the emptiness I felt in my nostril when the piece of Lego I had pushed up there had been taken out after three hours. It was over. I was finished. There were other men, no other women. It must have been some form of fate, and fate is inexorable. Far too inexorable.