But you can't make it drink.
That's how the saying goes, isn't it?
Here's something else I've learned.
You can also plant a seed...
but ultimately you have no control over how it grows.
(Unless you're Monsanto...)
Wait. Time out.
I'm stuck. I am absolutely stuck. I have no idea how to tell this part of the story. It's all jumbled in my mind.
I want to skip ahead, to the part where Blue Eyes comes back and the stories are fun again. I want to skip ahead to now because I am so much more fascinated by my life NOW than I am by what happened over a year ago.
But I decided to tell this story for a reason. I'm still not fully sure what that reason is. My friend Laura (thank you for listening!) says that maybe there's something in here that my readers need to hear. I hope she's right. Maybe there's something in here that I need to write. All I know is that every other part of this story has come very easily to me, but this feels locked inside of me and I wonder if I'll be able to share it the right way.
In order to do that, I think I have to let go of how I think a love story should be written. I think I have to just write, so forgive me if there's no chronological order here. And know that this part is not really about Blue Eyes and me.
This part is just about me.
My grandpa died my freshman year of college. Soon after, I met the boy who would become my best friend, then my first love, then my first heartbreak. I remember noticing him because he looked so sad. I don't think I would have reached out to him had I not also been grieving. It turns out he was mourning the loss of his first love, his high school girlfriend who had recently broken up with him. I saw him in the hallway of our dorm one night and invited him to a party. Within minutes, we both realized we weren't frat party people and left. We took our first night walk of many that year and I knew immediately that I had found someone who would be important in my life.
My hypnotherapy and past life regression teacher tells me that we have multiple soul mates. If that's so, then I feel certain he is one of mine.
I don't know what it feels like for other people to be in love. I know that the first time I fell in love, it felt like all of my dreams had come true. I mean I literally felt like I was living in a dream. It was strange to me because my dreams have always had this intense, haunting feel to them. I love dreaming. I feel emotions in my dreams that don't really exist when I'm awake. And yet suddenly I found myself feeling that way all the time. The odd part was that my dreams no longer felt special. I missed that haunting feeling when I slept but it was okay because I had it when I was awake.
Perhaps first love is always like this. I didn't just want to be with him. I wanted to be one person. I wanted to disappear into him so that we would never be apart.
Oh God, it sounds so awful to me now, like the beginning of a horrible Lifetime movie that ends with the girl becoming a crazy stalker.
It was true though. That's how I felt. I don't imagine you'll be surprised when I tell you he broke up with me only months later. I can look back now and see how suffocating that obsessive kind of love was. But at the time, all I knew was that I had lost the person who was my best friend. I remember thinking that I had lost myself so completely that I needed to rebuild who I was, cell by cell. I knew even then that the process of coming back to myself would only make me stronger.
And it did. But it took a really long time.
It took five years before I felt that I was truly over him. Five years before I could let go and move on. And that only because I got an e-mail from him out of the blue one day that finally gave me closure. I remember sitting in my apartment in Brooklyn sobbing, surprised at the depth of feelings I still carried inside me.
I actually thought I had gotten over it. But maybe some hurts never truly go away.
Or maybe we just don't always know what we need in order to release them.
For me, I realized, I needed to know that I had mattered to him, that what had meant everything to me had at least meant something to him.
Five years later, his e-mail gave me what I needed. And just like that, it was over. We became friends again, as we had been before we dated, and we're still friends to this day. I remember why I loved him, but even more importantly, I remember why I was his friend. And I am so much happier being that.
Read the next installment here.