I will readily admit that my heart has had its share of loves and has also taken its share of beating. I do not regret the hurts though, for if I had never been so profoundly hurt then I would not be able to appreciate being consummately loved.

The branches in my tree involving romance have but three sturdy branches. There are a number of smaller twigs but they are of no consequence, mere fillers in the canopy of life.

The first branch, my first story is the worst for this love had hurt me to the core, rotted my soul and almost decimated my being. But as you can see, I am still here, stronger than I have ever been so there is a happy ending to this sad tale.

I was born a romantic. Even without immediate models to fashion after, my heart has always been open to love, like a sapling raring to sprout new shoots.

When I loved him, I loved him with as much muster as my young heart can handle. I loved him in every way possible with my heart, my body and my soul. I gave him everything I was capable of giving because it is the only way I knew how to love. I believe he did the same for me. He was the first to make me feel loved in every way. We shared the same passions and taught each other those that neither one of us knew about. We laughed, we cried and most of all we loved. We loved but we were young. We fought but we were young. We really didn’t know what we were doing. Even when the love and the passion started to wane, we didn’t realize it. Maybe it was because we were young.

Chuck it to youth; blame it on recklessness or whatever else it may have been but things slowly deteriorated between us. I just hate that it took years rather than months or days. You see, we were together for eight years, longer than some people stay married. Many of those years were happy, I must admit. In the end though, we put each other through the wringer.

I fell in love with someone else yet I returned to him. I could not give up what we had in exchange for something new no matter how intense. But I created a rift in our core, one that could not be repaired. Eventually, he too, strayed but he strayed in a manner more permanent. Long story short, he got someone pregnant. HE SAID he felt an obligation to her and had to marry her. It hurt me to the core and I thought it would kill me but there was nothing I could do. I lost myself during this time, I gave up on everything I believed in. When he returned from his wedding, he returned to me and I let him in. I knew I shouldn’t have, I knew I was wrong, but my sorrow was greater and I sought comfort where I could. With him… my love, my friend but my protector no more. He had broken my heart then came back to stomp on it and I was helpless to keep him from doing it. I thought he had destroyed me thoroughly.

But, as is the way of life, I woke up one morning and realized how overly dramatic I had been, and that the physical ache I had been feeling for months had dulled into merely an irritating hum. I survived to love another day…

And on my tree, that branch stands. Stalwart as ever but long overgrown with leaves and many more branches that have grown from it. My tree continues to fill out and I would not dare cut off that branch even though it holds so many painful memories because if I did, then my tree would no longer be full as it is now.

“Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want”

 

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