Xiangjian

"By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." - Confucius

"Every year on my birthday from the moment I knew how to write I'd send a message in a bottle. That was until the seaside became a distant memory of mine and we moved."

What did you write? I scribbled in my notebook as he handed me a glass Cola bottle and cork.

"Anything I wanted. It was the deepest thoughts I couldn't express out loud. It was comforting to me to be able to tell someone, anyone, what internal conflict I was experiencing. Growing up poor was hard, but that gave me more to reflect on and I wouldn't take back that time. Though it was a short period of my time, it has shaped a part of me. Taking this journey with you, I have only just rediscovered that part I had suppressed for so long just to try and fit in the society my family in now a part of. My brothers adjusted into their new lifestyle with ease, but I always had difficulty transitioning because deep down I knew my heart didn't really belong there.

Thinking back to the days I'd write a message in bottle has given me some perspective on the direction I have been taking and I know to be truly happy I must chose a different path to the one everyone expects me to take."

How do you know where you're heading is the right way?

"My dear Elise, there is no right or wrong way to travel. You go where you believe you must go. It's a balance between the rational and irrational both of which are equally important. Someone once told me that the journey is always more fulfilling than when arrive at your destination, so don't have a destination, don't have expectations and just travel. Go where your body takes you."

What if your compass is on the fritz?

He laughed at that comment. "Then for a period of time you'll be confused, but like all things in life that to will pass. You'll either pick up a new compass or fix the old one. Either way, you'll never be stationary for too long. Shall we write our messages?" He asked, his pen poised at the ready.

I don't know what to write.

"There's no hurry, take your time. Write as much or as little as you want. This is your story." He smiled and started writing. We decided it was best if we didn't read each others messages, but when he actually put the words to the paper I regretted my agreement because it was a part of him I may never get to know and that made me slightly uneasy.

Sighing I turned to my own paper resting on my lap, still blank. Closing my eyes I let my mind wander, something I had been afraid to do because I was scared of the barrage of anguish, pain and darkness that might break down the wall I had taken many pains to put up. I felt the emotions come flooding back, hitting me with such force I started shaking.

My hand shook as I picked up the pen, so I took I deep breath before opening my eyes.

I've been lost for so long. So long in fact, that I was beginning to believe that I wasn't and that was just how my life was - drowning and covered in darkness. Daisy is dead I know that but she was my sister and I don't want to let her go, after all it was my fault she died. I made a vow to myself to never speak again, or maybe I just stopped talking because I felt trapped in my emotions, I can't really tell because despite her death being the clearest moment in my life the time after it is just a blur.

It's easy being a cynic. It's easy to dwell in the pit of self loathing and hatred. It's so fucking easy to be sad. I thought I thrived on the darkness, on the pain just because I lived another day. God damn was it hard to get through the day. So many times I wanted to scream, to walk in front of a car, to feel. The numbness settled in too quickly for me to register it, like it was sheltering me from the world when in reality I was being torn from it.

14 years is a long time. I've forgotten how my voice sounded. I've forgotten many things, but one thing that still haunts me every night is my sister's scream when she pushed me out the way. It's a broken record that drives me insane, taunting me every minute I shut my eyes. I would do anything for her voice to be silenced but not even a decent therapist could do anything for a miserable girl like me, but Dylan?

He blew into my life, breaking every barrier there is to my heart. Layer after layer he is exposing me. He is is close to finding my heart, I'm just too afraid to give it up. I've caged it for so long I don't know if I have the strength to break the last lock. I've lost many stages of life a typical woman goes through, even with devastation that has wrecked my life. Her death left me in such a broken state I couldn't even function, let alone process the whirring time around me. I never discovered my passions, my talent. I never discovered what made me because all this while I lived for my sister. I couldn't bear the thought of living for me, it was just too painful.

Having spent almost 3 weeks with my companion, I've learnt many things the insides of a cafe couldn't have shown me and I will forever be grateful to Dylan whose stubbornness has brought me this far. If you had told me 14 years ago I will find my way out of the black I would have scoffed at you and walked away. To think that here I am, at 21 years finally living out the 14 years I missed in just a mere 21 days. I can't imagine what I would do once we part ways. Deep down I don't want him to leave me, but I also know it was always an inevitability the moment we started this journey. I have resigned myself to that simple fact.

Dylan is an enigma, complex and unique. He's a wonder of knowledge, and experience. Without him I'd still be lost, he's my beacon in my darkness. He's guiding me home.

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Soon, I promise.

I was going to post this next week, but honestly I'm too impatient to wait- so over the next two days I'll be posting the rest of the chapters instead of waiting for a few weeks.

Enjoy :)