𝑾𝑯𝑰𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑺 /𝑗𝑗 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑘

𝟎𝟎𝟏.

____________________
𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻
𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜，𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑠𝑜𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒．
𝟎:𝟎𝟎 — 𝟐:𝟎𝟒
____________________

𝐀𝐒 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 through the shallow waters of my existence, I was suddenly yanked under by the riptide of grief. The one person who had been my anchor, my buoy, my reason for staying afloat - gone. The thought of swimming without them was a daunting task, like attempting to navigate a turbulent sea without a life jacket. My friends, Susan Peterkin, were my lifeline, and without them, I was left flailing in the darkness.

The day they left this world behind, everything around me went silent.

It was as if the very air itself had been sucked out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for breath. I felt like a ghost drifting aimlessly through the desolate landscape of my own mind. The weight of my emotions was crushing me, a suffocating blanket that threatened to consume me whole.

I was trapped in a perpetual state of numbness, unable to feel anything but the icy grip of despair. My heart felt like a heavy stone, anchored to the seafloor, unable to rise to the surface. Every moment was a struggle to breathe, every thought a battle to stay afloat in the undertow of my own grief.

But amidst this desolate landscape, something strange began to stir within me. A fire of anger and resentment started to burn, fueled by the injustice of it all.

I began to lash out at those around me, trying to make them pay for the pain they had inflicted upon me. I became consumed by a desire for revenge, for retribution. It was as if I had lost all sense of responsibility for my own emotions, and instead allowed myself to be swept away by the tides of rage.

I pushed people away, refusing to let anyone get close enough to hurt me again. I pushed him away. I didn't want to risk feeling that kind of pain once more.

But in doing so, I also pushed away any chance at healing, any possibility of finding solace in the arms of others. I became a storm-tossed vessel, lost at sea, with no anchor to hold onto.

In this dark and turbulent sea, I found myself adrift, struggling to find my way back to shore. But even as I drifted further and further from the safety of the shore, I knew that one day I would have to confront the demons that haunted me.

As I stood alongside my friends, Pogues, in the garden of the Chateau, the setting sun cast a warm, golden glow over the scene. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of crickets and birds, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had ravaged our lives mere months prior. The blonde boy, JJ, raised his whiskey flask into the air, his eyes misting with a mixture of nostalgia and longing as he declared, "To John B."

I felt a pang in my chest as I gazed at the familiar face of my friend, whose bright blue eyes seemed to hold a thousand comforting memories and stories. It was as if time itself had stood still since that fateful day when John B's life was cut short in a tragic accident, along with Sarah's. Yet, here we were, four Pogues standing together once more, united in our grief and our memories.