I wrote this in under an hour on my iPad.. it's not proofread much. Pretty short, may not be the most amazing thing.

This can be kind of like a thing- imagine whatever ship you want in here (except for the girls whoops sorry about that.) but almost every other ship will work. Enjoy!

It's 1:27. I'm standing in Greenwich Park, hand in hand with another. Here's the problem. We're both boys. Displaying an act of affection, even as simple as this, is a game of chance. The people, like ticking time bombs, waiting for to them detonate sporadically.

Every single step I take is like a gamble. We attract the eyes of everyone around us. Some smile with encouragement, knowing our relationship. Others avert their gaze, choosing to stare down at the yellowish grass instead. And still some glare, lean over to whisper something in their partner's ears, raise a carefully plucked eyebrow at us. But everyone looks, stares at the abnormality of it.

Groups of young children, happily playing in the park. Ushered away by a mother, coming up to us and saying something along the lines of, "I'm accepting. But will you please just keep to yourselves in front of my kids?" And I smile, not letting go of his hand, pretending her words don't affect me, pretending she's got nothing to do with us.

They say they're normal. But what is normality itself? "I'm normal." A family says. Their picture perfect little scene, mother and father, two children, a boy and a girl. The definition of 'normality'. But what if one of those children was given just one more blissful hour of life on earth? What if before long, a young life was whisked away, away into the clutches of the afterlife? They carry the guilt of that lost life. Then they're not normal any longer. They're different.

For normality is nothing but a fantasy, sought after by people who are different, people who are unique, yet refuse to see the beauty in their own selves.

Now it's 1:28. I lean into him a bit more. I smile. He does too. The crowd around us still whispers, glares. Maybe it's all in my imagination. Why is it that if I were a girl, it would become what society called normal? Why is it that being in love with who I am it is wrong? Unanswered questions, playing in my mind, swirling and shifting, turning into darkness.

A group of friends walks past, young preteens maybe, wrapped up in their winter clothes, their eyes fixated on the screen in their hands. But one looks up. Sees us, and hurry to justify this hand holding. It's a flurry of reaction, a confusing one. He checks to see if I'm actually just a girl, maybe with short hair. I can see the shock in his eyes. He whispers to a girl next to him, tapping her shoulder lightly, not-so-subtly gesturing at us.

I turn, walk away, aware of the eyes on me. Both me, and him. I've had my fair share of people like this, people ready to fight for what they believe in; yet not in a good way. They'd take one glance at us, and be ready to use force. To straighten out anything that winds off the road of normality.

1:29. I know I have to leave soon. The world waits for no one. Time doesn't stop. So why is mustering up the courage to say goodbye in the only way that is satisfactory so hard? Judgement. The snickering, mumbling happening behind the scenes when anything isn't normal.

It could be that one boy who didn't know how to shut up when the teacher told him to. That girl who messed up her presentation in school. The mother who had just a few too many kids. The person who didn't catch up with the latest idols.

See, people look for safety in numbers. They pick out other people's weaknesses, emphasise and expose them, and pray no one spots theirs. They target the outcast, the weak, the different. Even if that different is a good different. And that's society's definition of normal.

But I don't want to be burdened by all of that. And in this world, there's one who stands still while others brush by quickly. It's the one standing opposite me. He's the one who lets the rest of the world fall away, the one standing tall in the storm; the eye of the hurricane.

The clock ticks to 1:30. I've made my decision. I stand up on my toes, leaning in and closing the gap between us quickly, for a few short seconds. Then I'm waving goodbye, and the world starts moving again, and in a world where the idea of normality reigns supreme..

Nothing's a walk in the park.