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Love. What a complicated, chaotic thing. As one of the many who wish to love and be loved, I’ve taken one too many chances on it, only to see them fail. They’re not pretty sights, nor are they pleasant feelings…but I guess, if I’ll have to love again, I will, hesitantly, yet nonetheless gladly and boldly.

Of course, I will…but not without saying some words I allowed to be left unsaid, expressing thoughts and feelings that have been left unexpressed, forgiving hurts I’ve buried deep, buried, yes, forgiven, no…and, saving love I have yet to give. The latter parts of this long list of un-‘s are quite difficult to follow up, but I guess, for now, words can be enough.

My has had a couple of you’s, but not so many loves. The you’s did hurt, but the love hurt the most, so I’ll start with it. That I can look back to that time when you called and I found out you were in love, with a smile and a “silly me” comment to match, is nothing short of a miracle. You were a storm, really. My logical mind will never ship you with me; we were too alike and were bound to destroy each other’s sanity with our intellectual debates and ruthless, unrelenting ways. But I loved you, greasy hair, bad grammar, eccentric diet and state of mind, and all. And I told you, didn’t I? I had no regrets, and I guess I’m just putting thoughts into words again, so that I’ll be reminded of how I loved and lost and rose and still knew I won, because I loved…you. Still do, though differently, now. Thank you.

And thank you. You’re the one I’ll never fail to remember with a warm fuzzy feeling, because you were great. Downright great. Remember when you left roses, anonymously, in my cabinet? To be honest, I was glad they came from you, because I know you were sincere. Those walks to the train station, lunches in the cafeteria, and conversations that ended in lengthy assurances that you can rant to me, and I can do the same with you…you meant them all, and I’m so grateful. I know you cared, and I did, too. But I guess, maybe, there was a lot of her in me, and part of you still wished I was her. Though I knew I could tell you almost everything then. We drifted apart, and it might have been for the best. Still, I thank you.

Now, you. I had a little bit of a crush on you, and it’s pretty obvious you were crushing on me, too. We happened. Sort of. It was a great start, we danced to Taylor Swift (eww), and you’re the guy I’d ship me with. Stable, normal, and mellow you balanced me perfectly. I liked how you showed me photos of your dogs and offered to cook dinner at my house, and I was elated. For a moment I thought it would last and I wouldn’t want anything more. You were the closest I’ve ever had to a boyfriend, then, without warning, except a premonition, you ghosted. I guess you’re the perfect example of someone who just likes the idea of me and you, and maybe I was sort of the same. I’m relieved it ended, because it wouldn’t last, anyway. I may not like how it turned out so bitterly, but I’m thankful for meeting a more guarded version of me, who refuses to take anyone’s bullshit. And I’m thankful for a me who’s now aware that something with great potential can just stay that way, if one is too quick to run away. I’m disappointed you turned out the way you said you didn’t want to. It’s your choice, though. I hope you grow up; I hope we both do.

There’s nothing quite like the experience of you. You’re LITERALLY my dream boy; in fact, you stayed in my dreams for more than a year. The connection began just a few weeks after he and I ended, and it was creepy. It’s like my mind zeroed in on you. I predicted how you won an award, saw an apparition of you standing under the sun wearing a particular outfit and then confirmed you did, in real life, when that image of you made it online as your DP, and I’d dream something up, and it’ll just happen to you.Freaky. I think you may be my soulmate; maybe, friend-soulmate kinda thing. Of course I’m invested in your life, dream boy. I’m sort of like your guardian angel, and you’re my fairy godmother. More than my innate psychic abilities, you opened so many doors for me, and made me believe in magic, and in myself, a little more. For that, thank you.

And then there’s you. Ha…I guess there’s no shortage at all. No, not at all, because there’s the two of you. Your friendship is mainly why I’m still not a full-fledged man-hater. You’re the people I trust with all my heart, and you make me believe that there are good men, because you both are. We’re soul siblings, and I know I can always count on you two to back me up when I make stupid mistakes and wrong decisions. I know I worried you quite a bit these past two years, and I’m sorry. But I know you know I always get back on my feet, better than ever before. Thanks for being there every time, and for reminding me that even the most independent woman needs people to lean on sometimes.

I’ll never admit it, but each you I addressed here has gotten a little piece of my heart. They have either broken or nurtured it. Whatever they chose to do with it, I thank them for making me realize that be it in dust, shards, or full beating form, my heart is made to beat, and it can certainly love again.

 

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