leftunspoken's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- D. to the best of my recollection Third entry today. My, I'm talkative on Mondays. I promised myself I would tell this story. I mentioned it here two weeks ago, and today is a storytelling day. So here it is: I once knew a man who loved me. I mean loved...to the ends of his edges. He knew me inside and outside and he called me Beautiful like it was my name. And I answered to it. An act of utter courage and absolute belief. And I broke him anyway. Not because I could, but because I couldn't love him anymore. A cruel joke, that love is rarely reciprocated; at least not until it's too late. For me it was. I endured neglect and apathy for two years before giving up and moving on. And time passed and his heart turned and he thought the full moon rose in my honor and the tide was pulled by my pulse. And I couldn't care. For all that was in me and every ounce of forgiveness I held I couldn't love him like that again. I will be grateful to him till the day I die for making me much of what I am, but I couldn't go backwards. I tried. Heaven above, I tried. Shredding my beliefs and my strength and my faith in the act. Much like trying to run headlong into the wind...I made no progress, but was severely battered by the effort. We were tied together for years, even after it ended. But it wasn't meant to be and somewhere deep I knew that. And yet I'm still sorry. For him. For me. For what we once wanted and were never meant to have. Everyone who shares your life is there for a reason. A lesson learned, a strength gained, a love bestowed. I will never regret what happened. But sometimes, just sometimes, I will remember and I will be sad. Sad that youth and a lack of options made it more painful than it should have been. Sad that life chooses sometimes to teach it's lessons severely. And it seems a lifetime ago, such that I occassionally wonder if it happened as I remember or at all. Because it truly is only a memory now with none of the power it once held. And I wrote of D. as I said I would. For the first time in five years. And it's nice to put it down for once, because memories are so very heavy sometimes. 3:17 p.m. - March 24, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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