Diving

An exam hall sounds like what you hear when you go diving.

It is soundless, but for the rustle and crack of papers, pens and chairs, muffled yet distinct, swallowed into the cavernous depths of the exam hall.

Glances spared between the watch on your wrist, and the examiners prowling amongst the chairs and tables.

The slight feelings of dread, as they loom over your shoulder, then drift away, disinterested.

Moments of panic, as you realise your time is short.

Then the first deep breath of fresh air as you emerge.

It is a noun.

What is a relationship?

It is knowing someone thinks about you before they sleep.

It is something to come home to.

It is a place where you're you.

It is picking up broken things, and piecing them together again.

It is someone who thinks of you when they wake up.

It is an equal game of tug and pull, checks and balances.

It is where somebody will make it okay.

It is wanting to be all the above, without condition.

It is uniquely and individually defined.

It is being loved, and in love.

It is something many look for, few truly find, and even less appreciate.

Being in a relationship is like being in a locked cage with a 1,200-pound gorilla that's menstruating with severe stomach cramps and the key has been shoved up it's ass.