The One That Got Away

How often I crave to write, to express my thoughts and feelings. Though those thoughts never seem to be able to reach the ends of my fingertips so that I may type it, or to my tongue so that I can say it. Even at this feeble attempt to express them, I cannot help but crave a smoke or a drink or some pills so that the unnecessary stress they may cause might be avoided. I am not a smoker. I am not an alcoholic. I am not a pill popper. I am simply a girl, a girl who is tired of feeling pain and misery. I do not want to keep crying over a boy. I do not want to be that girl, the one whose world revolves completely around this boy, and then the world completely stops spinning when he breaks my heart. I do not want this. But more than anything, I do not want to still love him, after all this time, after all he's done. However, this seems to be the cards I have been dealt. I hated how cliche I became when he and I were together: I was that girl who was constantly thinking about him, sighing with infatuation at the very thought of him, itching every moment to be with him. But I couldn't help it. He was the first person that I ever loved, who I ever cared about so whole-heartedly and genuinely. But alas the old saying seems to be utterly true: It was too good to be true. And yes, he did break my heart: shattered it into a thousand pieces left for me to put back together on my own, but I can't regret anything that happened. I learned so much about myself from him that I would never take any of that back. I'm so grateful to have met him, to have him in my life for that period, as I forever will be. Something tells me I'll always care for this boy, that for me, he's the one that got away. But alas, the time has come for me to move on, to stop feeling bad about myself, to not cry over him any longer. I've slowly but surely pieced my broken heart back together. And, though at the time I never thought it would, the world still turns.

~the em~