I've been sitting in this alleyway for a few hours now. Its finally gotten dark, which means I can finally go back to the TARDIS. I start to get up, when I hear the sound of hooves on pavement. I stepped back into the shadows as I watched Strax pass by on the carriage. Jenny was holding the curtain open, so I could say what they were doing. They were peering out the window, eyes wandering about, searching for something. Why did I hide in the shadows? I know they're looking for me.

The carriage was moving slowly, and for a second, I thought Madame Vastra was staring directly at me. I sunk deeper in the shadows. She won't see me. Please don't see me. Just keep going. Please just keep going. I don't want her to see me, that would be the worst. Then I would have to explain everything to her. And even if I didn't want to, she knows when I lie. Thats the first step to finding the truth.

A cloud hovered above me, foreshadowing my every move. I watched the carriage go down the street slowly, passing me without a second glance. Thank God. But know I have that cloud to worry about. A grey blob of uncertainty looking above my head. Filled with tears, bad thoughts, and who knows what else? Oh yeah, I do. I created that cloud, it's only right I know what it's made of.

Other than tears and bad thoughts, its filled with pain, sadness, life, and death. After all, that's why the cloud was created. I live, and I will always live until I run out of regenerations, yet I have experienced death. I am alive, but have died many times. I'm not talking about regenerating, no, that would be too simple.

One word; companions.

They tear me apart. So quick, it's like a tear running down your cheek.

You're crying non-stop, and have been for the past few minutes. The tears keep coming and coming and coming. Running down your cheek and lingering on your chin. Will they splat onto the closest surface? Or roll down your neck? Either way is terrible. But the tears. Oh, how fast they're coming. And after a while, after those few minutes, they cascade in a pre-existing lane. You know what happens now. They just keep getting faster and faster, until the cycle is practised in the speed of light. You walk down the dark brown hallway from your room to the washroom. You feel the soft, cushiony carpet, but you're too upset to acknowledge it properly. So you keep walking, holding in your breath, watching your step. You can't make any creaks in the floor, you can't let them here you. If they hear you, they'll come and see if you're okay. And when they come, they'll see that you're not. You push open the door and close it behind you after walking into the washroom. You've done this way too many times. You turn on the place yellow light and look at yourself in the mirror. Boy do you look ugly! And then you look at your cheeks. The tears are still coming. You see the path the tears have made on your previously dry skin. You absolutely hate it. The image is permanently imprinted in your brain.

It's like when you're sledding. You go up the steep hill with your sled tagging along behind you. You can feel the exact outline of the rope from the sled, pressing into your hand. Even though you're wearing thick gloves, that rope is permanently fused with your skin. Or at least, that's what it feels like. You walk up the hill, knees coming high, almost to your chest, just because of how steep it is. Each step you take, your knees come to your chest and then back onto the snow. As you walk up the hill, you look around, taking in your surrounding. The trees that once had leaves were now covered in a snowy blanket. On the ends of each branch were little crystals of ice. It looked quite beautiful. You were getting bored because this hill seemed oh, so, long! You listened to the soft crunch that your feet made in the snow with every step you take. You feel the harsh whiplash of icy wind on your face, and know that your ears, nose, and cheeks are reddened by the temperature. Why didn't you listen to your friend and bring ear muffs? Thats how you were, stubborn. You finally get to the top of the hill, and in a second, are at the bottom again. Then you start the cycle again, treading up the hill, and lunging yourself toward the bottom.

Got those memories down? Good.

Now, think. What were the similarities?

Well, both had a cycle. One a nice one, the other one vicious, but both very forceful. Next, in both you take a long time to face the challenge, going up the hill or crying, and seconds to smile again, sledding down the hill or washing your face and realizing you matter. But, truthfully, being brutally honest, both were amazing and terrible at the same time. And both are engraved in your mind.

It shows how something good can happen in a second, and how that good thing only feels like a second. Once something you live us gone, it feels like your world is falling apart. And you never stop crying or climbing until something new replaces it. But replacing something isn't easy. You can't use someone off the street as a new companion.