There are an amazing number of submitters who have seen such tragedy - I do wonder if we are representative of the general population, or if people of certain experience are drawn to share their story?
In the mean time, here's my story - page 183.
You're not the only one... to have lost yourself.We had met at a party I didn't remember - the manner in which I swung a broom handle impressed him, even if the speed I could twirl it was greater than my dexterity and I more than once bumped my arm, my leg, the side of my head. We met again at university when he agreed to give me a lift to an assessable excursion, and our fate was sealed the night I saw him across the crowded nightclub, the night I realised my most recent crush was indeed interested in my good friend instead, the night I realised there was some charm to the guy with the good looks who danced like a stereotype.
The relationship can be summarised as three years of stolen moments. I'd sneak into his room at night and sneak out at 3am, he would tell his family he was doing uni work when we'd go see a movie, I took up a job delivering the food of the restaurant of which he was a waiter. His family culture meant that much of our 'together' time was spent completing chores for his family or for one of his many projects - sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he fiddled with the lights, sitting on the bed while he fiddled with a switch, sitting on the garden wall while he dug and weeded and cleaned.
In retrospect, I don't know how it lasted as long as it did.
The girl who loved lyrics and the boy who liked only the bass. The boy who didn't read the news and the girl who always wanted to know the answers. The girl who loved sentiment and the boy whose idea of a great gift was to pretend the box was empty.
But somehow it lasted. And somewhere I lost me. I was happy to become his shadow, merging seamlessly when required or simply trailing behind.
When I got a proper job, I realised how much more there was to life. People were priorities over tasks, chores and traditions. Thoughts and opinions could be heard, absorbed and shared. Cohabitation, long holidays and unknown experience beckoned.
In a phone call on a weeknight I suggested a break, to which he tearfully he agreed. And I was fine for a week or two, whilst he suffered unsilently. Then I realised I didn't know who I was, that he knew exactly who I had become, and that he was no longer sad - almost simultaneously.
What follows next were the darkest months of my life.
A relationship reforged through anger and hurt should never be allowed to commence. A relationship in which one party has no intent other than that to harm should never be given such opportunity. A relationship with a person who has lost themselves should be managed delicately with compassion, but was instead abused to elevate only the most despicably tortured soul.
And this is how I would find myself in tears on his driveway, still trying to be quiet so as not to alert his family of my presence.
And this is how I would find myself in tears in his bathroom, reaching for a kiss on the lips but receiving only direction and dismissal.
And this is how I would find myself in tears in his bed, the only person I felt close to and the person I felt the furthest distance from.
And this what I want to say to you.
You are not the only one to have reached your lowest low, to be so close to and so far from the one you both love and despise the most, to carry the sadness of the mistakes you have made, the mistakes you are making and the mistakes you will no doubt make again.
But please, take heed, you are not the only one to capture that glimmer of realisation that yes, you are above all of this.
And I promise that you are not the only one who will be loved for the beauty you contain, cherished for your delicate calamity and found worthy of sharing the joys and the sorrows of another.