Love...

The last few weeks have really tested my thoughts and feelings when it comes to the subject of love. Growing up, I never really understood it. My parents were never the lovey-dovey kind and they seldom showed any affection towards each other, let alone us kids. The one thing I remember the most, when it comes to my parents, was the constant fighting, the anger and the tears. I remember how the rows would start and my brother and I would be watching hugged up to each other as they screamed, shouted and even hit each other. I never really understood what the big appeal when it came to love was.

As a result, I never learned about distinguishing crushes and infactuation from real love. Not until I was about 16 years old and I had my first proper boyfriend. I remember the feeling of butterflies in my stomach, that electric when we kissed. The days spent together just talking about everything or climbing up the rocks (they were synthetic rocks set up at the lake for people to climb) and sitting on the highest point watching the wild rabbits scurry through the grass and shrubbery while the sun set just along the horizon. For 5 years we were there for each other, through thick and thin and I almost forgot for a while that I was one of the few kids out there that actually smiled when their parents split up.

Since that I have had relationships and even when they went wrong, I thought I had pretty much worked out what love was and how it really felt to be important and adored by someone. I'd lost my childish naivity about love and I really started to believe that love was something that came and went. Whether it was 3 days or 3 years, you were with someone then it would end. Its only recently that I started believing in true love again and I started to believe that two people could have a permanent connection. It was at this point that Jace came in to my life. And I have never felt so happy. Everything fit when I met him and I was able to see how beautiful love can really be.

Then this week, I also saw how much love can really hurt a person. I'm not talking about the kind of hurt that can make one bitter and twisted or skeptical about love and life. No, what I am talking about is bigger than that. I'm talking about the hurt that results from one person having the one they love cruelly ripped away from them, for what (as more research from all 3 of us has unearthed) should have never arised nor been a problem at all. A refusal by the UKBA to allow these two to be together, the resulting tears and the anger afterwards. All because one person couldn't be bothered to check the facts and their own protocols. I'm not going to go in to it in great detail but we are sorting things out slowly.

The UK Border Agency is supposed to keep us safe from people who want to come in and cause problems, prevent people and drug trafficking and smuggling in things that could be dangerous. Instead, Manchester's branch wanted to stop one of the most pleasant people I have ever met, and why? Because she had nothing better to do that day and was probably fed up of having no one to interrogate. Allen was sent away for no reason and we have been working tirelessly to find out why and ,ale sire that on his return very soon, the same chain of disgusting events won't reoccur. I won't have to watch my best friend as her heart breaks and she is denied the chance to even give the man she loves that one last kiss goodbye. I used to respect the work of the people in the UK Border Control. I know now that is no longer the case.

Loves
Wendy xx