"It seems to us that they are a couple who envisage and plan their future together."

Obviously, you stupid member of parliament.

Kerri and I have made several barren choices together for the past six months. It's unfortunate that we are both from different countries and sometimes it is a strive to find a in complex solution for us to be together. I may have been treating her like shit at times and we have both lashed out violently and words would jab at our hearts so easily. But underneath all of this bullshit- we need each other to function.

Do you ever have that feeling when you wake up alone... the sheets are your only companion? It's abashing and petrifying when you have to face the dark alone. Or when you are put in a situation becoming tongue-tied, so dumbstruck that you need that other person by your side to find the words to say.

So I was refused entry from the immigration officer to be allowed to stay in England as a visitor. My first time traveling overseas, and I was detained by this ridiculous man who looked at me as if I was dirt. I had been refused entry because apparently, a) I did not have sufficient funds B) I left Canada to take a 6 week holiday and my intentions going back did not seem truthful. C) I honestly, honestly forgot to mention that Kerri lived with me in Canada for the past 2 years. There were many other problems that I do not want to speak of. But I was put in the situation where I worded everything wrong.

My bags were searched and I was patted down - and I was left to rot with the pale yellow walls staring back at me for seven hours. Each time someone came back to speak to me, I was interrogated more and treated as if I was a criminal. As if I was one of those lowlife foreigners who refuse to leave the country and work illegally. I just wanted a vacation away from all the head abashment that I would endure each week in the dirty city called Saint John. Is it such a crime for an eighteen year old to take a break from all the hoopla that she has been through for months? I guess so, I guess my intentions were not good enough for England.

I wake up in piles of tears thinking of being put back into that room, while the yellow shirt Brits sat there and watched me bawl on the screens.

I chewed my nails to shit, ran my fingers through my hair furiously and pounded my hands on the walls out of boredom and the fact that I was left there to suffer like some deviant or jailbait.

Immigration in the UK is vile and unjust. How a Canadian citizen could be treated this way, when we only respect the country that we are connected to. I DID, respect the English government until now.

When you have been traveling for hours and coming down off the drugs from the previous weekend - on top of that a strung out bipolar meshed with worrying obsessive compulsive together... it's not very easy facing incarceration on your own. Or the fact that I had no sleep, and this time it was not because of the drugs helping me stay awake. The hope that I would see her, or someone, just to hold me and tell me that this vacation wasn't wrong for a drug addict and alcoholic that just wanted to see the sun shine somewhere else. I just wanted to know there was another way of life rather than crack addicts roaming the streets and the whole city being infested by pills, cocaine...why couldn't I have a break for a while? Why not? Why did the UK government have to recognize that I am just a (I feel like...) nobody who wanted a ticket away from Canada for a minimal period of time?

I was proven there is another way of life. There are unique people left to met, places to gaze upon and cities that don't feed off of the drugs that are offered - out of boredom. Why do I indulge into chemicals and alcohol? It must be obvious by now... it's an easy way out of reality - reality that is bullshit.

Every hint of possibility or positivity is always immediately shattered. It's like... I have endured this other world that is so far away from reality - that I, and everyone else, has to pay for it in the long run. The transparent answer... we just gobble the pills and douse our livers with alcohol because it's a form of happiness that seems prominent for that short period of time. But as the week dwindles and the weekend arrives, we are all suffering the real world together... and it is boring. We want to live the simple life as the rich and famous who seem like they don't have a care in the world. We want to live that fashionably.

I take for granted that I have a companion by my side. Now that I had been restrained and locked in that room for hours... I cherish her. Each chance I get I smother her with kisses and clutch her as tightly as possible. There are still quarrels, moodiness from our disorders and on top of that, the drugs. But as a couple, you work things out together... you make it work. Because eventually there's that hint of euphoria that you both experience together. You can't kiss thin air, nor can you clench the bed sheets so you don't feel alone... no, you have that partner who helps you through everything.

I have Kerri.

Despite the crushes, the arguments, the pathetic insults just to see what each other's reactions are... we are still together.

I will always be addicted to the designer drugs, the last bit of alcohol, the pumping beats from the stereos driving the clubs... but I will never be addicted to being alone.

If I take it one step at a time and not rely on "the money that I will receive later" and actually start planning my future rather than always living spontaneously... maybe things will fall to place.

I never want to be overpowered by those yellow walls and yellow-suited dunces again.