One of these days, I'll be like Cameron Conant, and I'll write a book about how sin can destroy a relationship. These compositions, especially the ones of which I have written in the past month have only been derived from hurt...with the intention to hurt. "People only hurt when they are hurt", he says...their story, is ours. "With or Without You"...read it. I found it at McKay for .75 cents. It's about us. The truth is, it sat on my shelf for a year, perhaps...if I had read it...if I had read my fate before it happened, I could have stopped it. If only I could have handled things differently. It doesn't matter what close friends say, it doesn't matter what anyone says. I was so deeply in love, and he made a mistake. Big deal. People make mistakes. The fault is mine. I destroyed our relationship. I ran us into the ground with words, and a heart full of misunderstanding and anger. Conant writes about his wife Sara in the book:

"But she was so hurt, so wounded, that these accusations and threats came spilling out of her almost uncontrollably, as if there were a hole in her heart and she could no longer hold back what was inside."

That's how I felt, that's how I still feel. It hurts my feelings...breathing hurts my feelings. On adrenaline I ran for a month, I basked in the new blessings God showered me with. I'd convinced myself I'd moved on. And I have...in some senses. But now, there's pain...there's so much inexplicable pain. It's a new hurt...it's a different kind. It's a void that nags, this position of not knowing what to do with myself. Life has been tasted, but the distraction has died. The emptiness without him is still here...as empty as it ever was. And there is so much sorrow over wounds that will never have the opportunity to be mended...the chance to fix it that was never really given...there is a corpse that can't be revived...this is healing. It's going to hurt...and hurt...and hurt...it's now, the pulsating dull pain that is almost worse than the expected excruciating one. It aches...it aches today...it will ache tomorrow...it will ache next Thursday...it will ache through the holidays...it will ache. Then, when he leaves in May, I will be naked all over again...and the pain will change...and it will ache.
I've stepped forward. I'm doing all the right things...I'm going on dates, I'm keeping myself busy, I'm setting new goals...but my heart is still wrapped up in him. How can I be so cruel as to lead anyone else on when I know who I love? I know who I love. I know where my heart is...and though it does not choose to be there...it's there. It's the quiet ache...the lonely house with the lights on late...anticipating any sign of something. I sit on the porch with an extra cup of coffee made...just incase. I always make six cups. At first, it was because of my mom and I...then, it was because of us. I always make six cups...two perfect canisters.
I was given up for understandable reasons. I wasn't what I could have been. There are so many sides, so many broken pieces...but I pick every single shattered one up and examine it. I want to examine it...even if he doesn't care...I want to examine them. They were once mine...pieced together or not, I love them still.
Even in the broken, oh, my heart is too soft, and my love too forgiving, my hope too big for the circumstances, my sorrow too deep for breath.
Move on?

Yeah...I have-
But my heart?
It doesn't seem to be healing so well.