"I love pretending." "It's how we get by, no?"

It's been one year now since we gathered agreeably on your family's deck to celebrate your nineteenth year. I refused watermelon and tried not to cry, and after I'd left, you shed tears and expressed the sadness I couldn't. "She knows what you said about her. Someone told her what you really think of her."

That Saturday marked the end of what I consider our last "good" week. It seemed like everything went downhill from there, beginning with blame, anger and tears and ending with heartache and many good-byes.

You said "Move on!" Where do I go?

Several months later, you finally did what I was unable to do. I tried to sever the ties, but I loved you. I couldn't say good-bye permanently. I loved you. I tried to tailor God's plan for our lives because I wanted you by my side forever. We held on by a thread for five more painful weeks.

It was Sunday afternoon and I was trying to muddle through an Emily Dickinson poem analysis. As I got ready for church, I pleaded and prayed and begged. Who was I to ask God to change His mind? I picked out an ugly top I would be okay never wearing again because I knew I had to do an ugly thing. I sobbed and I sobbed and I sobbed. My only comfort at the time was Jeremy Camp's "I Still Believe;" I had the song on repeat. You picked me up for church and saw that I was crying. Naturally, you inquired about what had upset me. I just shook my head, unable to speak. You knew. We rode to church in complete silence, other than my occasional sniffle. We arrived. You parked. I did it. I cried some more. We walked into church and smiled at everyone like nothing was wrong; we played the perfect role of happy, plastic people. Some questioned the roll of toilet paper I had inside my purse; others knew better. I left the service early and paced around the gym as many times as it took until the final "Amen!" was exclaimed. You drove me home; we held hands for the last time. You walked me to my door. "Thank you for loving me enough to do this." Kiss. "That might have been our last kiss forever." I started crying again. You hugged me for what felt like forever and eventually drove yourself home.

Should have never started. Ain't that the way it always ends?

Love isn't laced with butterflies and rainbows all the time, but despite what Pat Benatar may believe, love isn't always a battlefield, either. Love is just a game. Certain people are better at playing it than others; meanwhile, some are just lucky. Some people play to win. Some people play to play. Some don't bother playing at all.

I have spent so much time pointing fingers and assigning blame that thankfulness slipped my mind. (I'm taking a deep breath of fresh air, but here it goes:) Thank you. Thank you for showing me what it's like to truly love someone and be loved in return. Thank you for putting my heart back together again--forget the fact that you shattered it later. That's not important today. Today, I feel grateful for the carefree times and the man you used to be. Thank you for your loyalty, even though it didn't last forever. Few things in this life do. It was always sufficient and thank you for your honesty and your friendship and for making me laugh all of the time. Thank you for the cotton candy Blizzard and the collage you made me for Christmas and driving just to my house just to remind me in person how much you loved me. Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder late at night. Thank you for making me feel beautiful without make-up and while sporting sweat pants; I learned to love myself again because of the example you set. It mattered. Your thoughtfulness never went unnoticed. Thank you for loving me the best you knew how.

Happy birthday.

It's been one year now and I'm re-evaluating who I really am.

Who am I?

I'm joyful. I'm genuine. I struggle with compassion, but I'm trying and improving. I thrive off creativity. I feel like the majority of my life has been one unwise decision after another. I'm arrogant (and therefore a hypocrite,) but I would choose a giant ego over a low self-esteem any day. I'm recently brave and typically bold. Dynamic. Energetic. Optimistic. I know what I want. I know Who I'm living for. I'm finally realizing I'm so much better without you. And I don't mean that in an unkind or spiteful way. It's more like a following-God's-plan-creates-joy-and-peacefulness-in-my-heart kind of way.

The only place I can go is into Your arms
Where I throw to You my feeble prayers
In brokenness, I can see that this was Your will for me
Help me to know that You are near

I still believe in Your faithfulness
I still believe in Your truth
I still believe in Your Holy Word
Even when I don't see, I still believe