The Well of Imagination

He’s the one who makes my heart beat faster.

But you’re the one who made my heart.

He’s the one who makes my thoughts whirl.

But you’re the one who made me think.

He’s the one who makes me happy.

But you’re the one who gives me joy.

He’s the one who makes me brave.

But you’re the one who can truly protect me.

He’s the one who would do anything for me.

But you’re the one who already sacrificed it all.

He’s the one who loves me.

But you’re love itself.

He’s the one.

But you’re the only.

When I type a single letter, seven people come up. My eyes see their faces, but my heart sees their stories.

The first, I love, but let go of.

The second, I love, but cannot be with.

The third, a wonderful friend, whose struggles I take as mine.

The fourth, a brother, more devoted than I imagined.

The fifth, a sister not by blood but life, my helper and adviser.

The sixth, another sister through life, my comforter and shoulder to cry on.

The seventh, a friend I did not think would become dear, but brought close through crisis.

Each one of them is dear to me, and I have the greatest “J” of them all to thank for bringing them into my lives.

When I type a single letter, eight people come up. My eyes see seven faces, and my heart sees seven stories.

My soul sees one savior.

Today a particular someone asked me if I would to be jealous if my ex dated another girl.

The answer was obviously, ragingly yes.

How could I deny it?

It’s a struggle every day to remind myself of why I broke up with him.

I knew it had to be done, that we would never work until truly knew God and thus truly understood me, but the thought was little comfort. It still isn’t.

Part of me is glad we’re still friends. The other part knows that it’s going to make getting over him much harder.

But that’s life, I guess. Full of mistakes and hurts and problems. But also of happiness and pleasure and hope.

I don’t regret a single moment of it. Should you?

I’ve seen it before. Two people who love each other so much. And then something goes wrong, and everything falls apart. Hearts broken, tears shed.

And then they become strangers.

Two people who used to know each other so well now cannot even start a conversation with each other.

I was so determined not to let that be. But it wasn’t really my choice. I was the one who had hurt him. He was the one who decided that fate of our relationship.

And he chose in such a way that I could only love him more.

I know we can never be truly together until he changes. And I refuse to force that change upon him.

But best friends should love each other, don’t you think?

It was okay that you forgot, that you didn’t remember. It stung a little, of course, but it was okay.

It was okay that you said sorry, that you apologized. It made a world of a difference, of course, and it was okay.

It was okay that you messed up, that you didn’t do it right. It was a little frustrating, of course, but it was okay.

It was okay that you fixed it, that you repaired it. It picked things back up, of course, and it was okay.

But then it was not okay.

Because it was not okay that you hurt me, that you stabbed my heart. It burned, of course, and it was not okay.

It was not okay.

But I can be okay.

Just.

For.

You.