Wow,where do I even begin,and why am I even posting this,for all the world to see?.Because I guess I need to get this off my cheast, I feel as though I am going to break out of my skin.
An actual study says the human heart takes 18 months to heal after an inital break-up.18 months for a broken heart to heal.My heart has been broken for 8 years,and yet,I love him still with every broken peice.I won't go into my relationship details,needless to say I was young,he was my first in every way.Since I was 14
I have related in some way,this man, with a part
of my life.Every step I have taken without him
by my side,was taken with the thought that my
steps would lead back to him.We have spent days,
months,years apart,yet time brings us back together,and it's always like we have never been
apart.And I have loved this man so much,that I was
never able to be that clingly type of women that
would take what ever means nessasary to hold onto my man.That isnt what love is about.I loved him so much back then,and even more so today,that all
I want is for him to be happy,and healthy, and for
him to hold tight to the knowledge that I have
respected him as a man and I have loved him though
this rollercoaster ride of life.I want him to be able to think of me with a smile,and to get that
feeling of your heart swelling,that sweet ache when of someone so special comes to mind,your whole body feels it.
So I've been telling myself for 3 years.3 years ago,I decided I couldn't take this back and forth relationship,that the love I felt for this man was
killing me slowly,I couldn't live without him,yet
he could live without me.And thats when the decsion came into play,that I wanted what was best for him,I wanted him to be happy,and that seemed to be without me.So I walked away,for the last time,and told myself if it was meant to be,it
would be.Somehow fate intervenes,as always.I started talking to an old friend{who will probley read this},and of course she associates me with him,as she always has,and if not for her,I would not have known that tonight,at the age of 35,he took a mild stroke.And my life shattered all over again.I had to call the hospital,had to hear his voice for myself,to know he was safe.
And his voice,his voice alone sends memories though my spine,and images of a life I walked away from,because I didnt fight for him.I am seized with regret for the first time over this,and with the misery that I may never be held in his arms again,all because I beleived in the power of love and faith,and time.Time,it would either bring him back to me,or it would heal my broken heart.
He hasen't come back to me,and as soon as I heard his voice I knew,I would never heal,I will never be completly happy,and I will never be whole
