Of All the Things...

He was all I could think of (sometimes, when I am sentimentally alone). He heeded the call of mine 20 months ago or more and I thought we’re going to be more than fine. I had too many priorities that I didn’t feel he’s drifting slowly away from me. He left without giving me even a hint of why he has to leave. My sobriety had me convinced that he’s unworthy of all my time, effort, and most of all, love. Somebody told me that the heart is much like a waterfall. When love gushes forth and people take from it, it eventually dries up. After a while you just refuse to love in abandon. I find that statement ridiculous. Love never dries up. Contentment does. I admit he was once my greatest guilty pleasure and it breaks my heart to know he is drifting farther every minute, every hour, every day. I’m no damn sob sister. I just can’t prevent myself from writing this when I saw him after a year. My contentment right now is immeasurable, and it need not be ruined by something that is not really the source of the unfathomable satisfaction I am in now. I know it’s selfish to desire him and I don’t have any silly plans of getting him back. But a question seeped out of my head asking: How could passion breathe closely next to frustration? Maybe because I am selfish. Yeah, I was selfish. I held him near yet he was not really there. He demonstrated love but the love I long for is not what he can give. Now I comprehend. He was but a fleeting phantom of desire nobody could lay claim on. I desired him though I know he’s not the one I need. I don’t want to feel that absurd feeling ever again. I decided to bury my selfishness, though reluctantly, 6 feet or more under the ground. It’s because I know it wouldn’t help me grow spiritually, mentally, physically and emotionally. I need a balanced intellect, emotion, and will (even if it’ll hurt me) because in the end I am the one to enjoy its fruits. However, I am grateful he broke my heart. All the issues in it were gone. Resurgence. And I’m going to keep it with all diligence. He still lives in his not-so-humble abode and I pray that his new relationship right now is for keeps. He’s just like old high school autographs, you remember them once in a while, they’re beautiful but they mean nothing more than voices from the past. He gave me my first heartache, but I learned soon after that as you go on in this life, the moment you give your heart to somebody, and that somebody hurts you, every heartache is a first heartache. It hurts all the same. And with all that, I pray to mature somehow. Now I thank my Father, Who lives in the Place I am longing for, for taking care and comforting me all the time. He made me understand the things I couldn’t understand in this superficial world.