There comes a time in your life when you meet someone who will act as the first major pivot point of your story. Someone who you cannot imagine ever losing. Someone who you have been waiting for your whole life, and the day that you meet them, the day you know that however huge or tiny the part they play in your life is, you will remember them for the rest of time and space.

This comes from a corner of my heart that I never knew existed until I met this kind of person. I don't know how to interpret what I feel for them or what it is that makes me every side of happy when I speak to them, but I do know that they are special and that I love them very much.

For all you kids out there who are still trying to discover what love is and what love means, this is for you. Because I don't think you can ever fully describe or completely determine what the emotion is. I think that we can just live it and just let it make us happy.

Because, yes, it is confusing and yes, it is the biggest two-faced bitch I ever came across. But it is rare and for the love of all things holy, please don't ever let your confusion stand in the way of grabbing Love's hand and running with it. Because whatever happens, you are still going to find it again. Somewhere. Somehow. Sometime.

Enjoy x

Baby,

I haven't seen you for six months. That's over 25 weeks. In days, it is 177. In hours, we have been apart for 4,248 of them. 254,400 minutes I have spent crawling through mud because I have not had you physically by my side to help me. And it has been the most painfully slow 15,292,800 seconds of my entire life so far.

Judging by the way my right forefinger and my right thumb continuously collide in the most unstructured of rhythms as they crash against this sweaty pen in sharp, juddering motions, my heart is most likely attempting to inform me of my pending and fast approaching death.

I've never died of heartache before. Do you think it hurts when the heart finally decides it has had enough and can no longer cope, breaking and snapping and crumbling with every last breath you draw in and clumsily choke out?

You once told me that heart attacks were only from loving too much.

Now I know that it is, in fact, possible to love someone (or something) too much.

I knew you for one month. That's 4 weeks; 28 days; 336 hours; 20,160 minutes and 1,209,600 seconds.

Sometimes that seems like forever and sometimes it feels like the smallest time I've ever known.

It's funny how you can go through your life for seventeen years and meet thousands upon thousands of people, every month and every year. In one day, you can catch simply a glimpse of around one hundred people. If you really think about it. But in all those seventeen years that I lived before I met you, not one single of them ever made me feel like you did. Like the world was finally a better and more beautiful place to live. When I stop to think about everything that I feel when I simply think of your name, the stampede of words and whispers and late night kisses that wash over me like the world's strongest and most powerful wave, overwhelms me to the point of this constant heartache.

And sometimes it's nice and sometimes it's not.

Sometimes, the heartache is because of all the wonderful and super precious memories I have of you and me and us together. I remember them and I see them; I listen to them and I feel them. And when that happens, nothing – absolutely nothing – can ever wipe the dorkiest grin off my incredibly and embarrassingly lovesick face.

But sometimes, the heartache is because of the way those memories make me feel after the wave has washed over me. The way I stand there, and shiver, in the aftermath of the warmest sun beam, which has just sprinkled its glitter so delicately across my Latin skin. I feel lost and helpless when the tide has been sucked back in and it's because I am faced with the reality that I will never live those memories through again. Yes, I can have them and yes, I can see them as clearly as I can see the tears seeping through my mocha beamed eyes right now.

But I will never be able to live them again. They will only live in my heart.

And that hurts, baby. That really hurts.

This aftermath is painful. It's like I forget to take in the right amount of air in order for my lungs and my body and my heart to be satisfied as the wave envelopes me in its strength and power. I always forget because there is no time to breathe. And there is never enough air because my oxygen supply is not with me.

It's distant and vacant and only there, ironically, when the wave falls around me.

And then it's gone. And I can't breathe. And I'm left standing in the middle of this cruel and unjust world, like the lonely depths of no man's land, clutching my heart as it slowly and methodically pieces itself back together again.

I am too weak to do it myself.

And now, so is my heart.

There is a light out there somewhere, or maybe it is a diamond, I'm not entirely sure, shining and beckoning and reminding me of its presence every time I forget about it. That moment when I slip on my work shoes and the urge to just smash them through the glass door overwhelms me with temptation, the diamond light sings to me, only very softly, and reminds me that if I don't go to work, I will never see you again. That moment when I rummage through my bedroom closet to try and find my damn resume to send to a gazillion employers in the helpless hope that at least one of them will offer me a clue as to what the hell I should be doing with my life, and all I want to do is scream and shout and yell and snatch the pile of paperwork up in my fists and rip them to shreds, piece after piece after piece, the goddamn diamond light sings to me. It sings to me and my eyes move naturally to the space I saved at the back of my closet for that bottle of snow I collected for you last month.

Because you've never seen snow.

And I need to show you the snow.

And this light, baby – this beautiful, amazing, unexplainable diamond light – sings and whispers and flickers every single time I want to leave it all behind.

Sometimes, I find that I don't even think about what it is reminding me of. Sometimes, I just know I need to keep going. Whatever the reason, I just need to never ever stop. Don't ever stop moving to the diamond light. Because once you reach the diamond light, everything will be okay again and everything will make your heart hurt less.

It took me a while, I know, to figure out what the hell the diamond light was. Or rather is. Perhaps, I assumed it was the desire to travel and get out of this loser town, Lima. Maybe I thought that if I followed it, it would lead me to all the answers to these invisible questions that I can only hear, not see.

I guess I supposed it would take me to the beginning of the next chapter in my book.

Because I'm stuck, baby. I'm stuck. In between two chapters of my life – my childhood and my youth. Or maybe it's my youth and my adulthood? What I mean is the part where you're not really sure whether you are a proper adult or a really old kid.

I feel like I'm in limbo – floating around in a place that has no walls and no boundaries. No entries and no exits. No doors and no windows. Nothing.

And that's when it hit me, baby. That's when I finally realised what the diamond light is and why I feel like I'm a leaf on a breeze.

I feel like this because I can do anything. Because there are no boundaries and limits to my life. I have every right to go out there and grab every opportunity as it passes my way or as I pass it's.

I'm limitless.

And so are you. And that's why I know that you are the diamond light. Because however hard or however much I try and unconsciously push away from the place I really need to be, my diamond light sings infinitely louder and shines infinitely brighter.

I'm meant to be with you, Britt. That's what the stars are telling us. That's what fate is. Because every little tiny star up there in that gigantic black canvas we call The Universe, is a diamond, and the space in which they fly is the space in which I hover. I thought I was alone, drifting confusingly around my two chapters. But I'm not. You are there with me, Britt, by my side at every angle that I turn. There is not one corner up there, in my hovering universe, that you are not shining your beautiful diamond lights.

Brittany.

You have splashed into my life, a rainbow of pinks and blues and greens and yellows. There are purple highlights in your hair and orange spotlights all around your aura. I knew you for less than thirty days.

Thirty days to love.

Thirty days to fall.

Thirty days to be saved by the most angelic diamond star I have ever known.

And yet, six months on... I feel like I could not know you better.

So, baby, I want you to turn around.

Turn around and look straight ahead at the star that is shining the brightest. I think it is just above you. Maybe a little to the right and a little further down, towards the horizon.

I want you to tell me what you see.

Say it out loud.

Say it right to that star.

Out loud.

Tell me what you see.

I know that neither of us are going anywhere in this life, and in this world, if we do not have our diamond lights shining brightly, right above our heads. They need to be able to lean down and kiss our foreheads. They need to be able to fly gently to our sides and hold us if we hurt. They need to be able to scatter themselves around the canvas of our hearts and give us something beautiful to look at and to study.

They just need to be there.

And that is why I want you to tell me what you see, when you look to your brightest diamond light on the horizon of your front yard.

Can you see yet?

.

.

.

.

Hey, baby.

I see you too.

Take from this what you will! It is a complete AU and I really don't have a clue where Brittany and Santana met or have been together or what's really going on at all. All I know is that Santana needed to see Brittany again! Also, I apologise if the math is wrong. I totally suck at numbers.

Thanks for reading, kids! Poppy x