Here's a little something from the 15 year old me.. I still feel like it accurately describes just who I am today. Maybe that's a good thing. It means that my goals and values haven't changed. Even with age, I have kept that same naive belief that I can actually make a difference. Or maybe that's a bad thing. In six years, have I not accomplished anything? There's nothing I could go back to my 15 year old self and tell her that she does get what she wants? Definitely something to think about..

"I'm just a normal person like all of you...living everyday sometimes wishing it was my last. I'm confused and searching for something I'm not so sure I'll find. A purpose for me here. What exactly I'm supposed to be doing. How I'm going to make a difference to somebody...anybody. But I'm also hoping. Hoping that I make the right choice. And hoping that somehow I do make a difference in somebody's life. And I'm wanting. Wanting somebody special to spend my time with. Somebody thats everything I need and more. I'm wanting to know how my life will turn out in the end. Wanting to know if I'll look back on everything I've done and laugh. And even with all this concern...right now I'm smiling. Smiling because I know I've done well so far. Smiling because I know I'll do my best. Smiling because I know God already has it all planned out. And even though it's tough sometimes. Even though I find it hard to smile sometimes. I know that it's all worth it because I will make that difference. Even if it is just a difference in my own life."

It hit her like a freight train. In an instant she was so suddenly and completely over it. But in retrospect, it was a slow and gradual progress. Progress filled with many people and little moments that helped the healing along. It all started with a friend who understood; someone who just listened. And time. A year sprinkled with random guys and failed attempts at relationships. Neither of which never measured up to the last. It ended the same way it began. A new friend who listened. Who understood. Who helped more than they ever could imagine.

Her heart still had hope in the completely hopeless situation and she had a hard time figuring out why. Her head knew the exact date of when that last drop of hope streamed down her face. But moving on meant letting go and her heart was not going to let that happen. Not just yet. Deep down she knew that pain of this magnitude never truly goes away. She would just get better at hiding it from the worried faces and caring souls around her.

Maybe she could have fought back the memories. Maybe she just was not trying hard enough. Maybe she did not want to try. If happiness is a choice, was she choosing to be unhappy? The anger and sadness had rebuilt the walls around her heart that he had so carelessly torn down. The feelings had become familiar. She was comfortable and content because she knew what to expect. She was dealing with it. Moving on meant losing that anger and sadness that seemed to protect her now. She preferred the familiar over the uncertain, even with the possibility of greener grass on the other side.

That through year after year
Something very few witness
But all that breathe have wished for
Such a sad story it is
For a love of the deepest
To be wasted at last.

Everyday her heart broke all over again as if it shattered into a million pieces every morning just as she opened her eyes. It was as if the alarm clock had some evil magic power that brought back the pain. At the moment her feet touched the floor, she spent the rest of the day gasping for breath while trying to pick the sharp pieces out of her lungs. With every midnight prayer, she tried to re-form the pieces into a figure that at least somewhat resemebled the shape of a heart, only for it to shatter again the next morning with the sound of that wretched alarm clock.

The days had flown by and before she knew it a year had come and gone. She had an impossibly hard time believing that it had been that long. She spent so much of her energy just trying to figure out why she still hurt that she barely had any energy left to try to make the pain stop. She wondered how much more time it would take. She was growing tired, but knew inside that the worst pain was better than the numbess that would overcome her if she finally let him go.

The more she thought about it, the more she laughed at her own jealousy. It couldn't possibly be true anyway. After all they had been through, after everything he had promised, he couldn't have possibly moved on that fast. Or at least she hoped. But then again, no. She would never wish that same fate on the poor girl. Unfortunately though, people never change. At least not without something really worth changing for and this girl couldn't be that special.

Time. It takes time. Something of which he hadn't had enough of. Unless, of course, he didn't need time. She dared to say it was all a lie, some sort of game he was playing. If that was true, she definitely had won. She was finally truly and so deeply in love. In love with someone who she trusted to be in control. Someone who would never leave. And because His arms were now constantly around her, she didn't need him anymore.

She had comfort and refuge in the only one who could truly change her. And he, well, he is still searching all the wrong places for the one thing she has already found.

She didn't like face to face conversations. Writing was easier. It allowed her to disconnect from the conversation and the situation. Almost as if a character she created was engaging in the talk instead of her. She was writing a story. The story of her life as she wished it was being lived.