"Moving on is simple, it's what you leave behind that makes it so difficult."
I loved him. There's no doubt about it in my mind. I would have stopped breathing if he'd asked me too (all he had to do was say please). But my love was just not enough. I knew early on it wouldn't be, but I had something to prove to myself. See, I can have whatever I want. I believe that and so I went for it. What he did was take all that I had to give and then he took that which I wasn't exactly looking to give away..........you know, my dignity, self-respect, self-esteem..............self. I love love. The idea of love. The look of love. Even as much as I hate to admit it, the feeling of love. Bu above all else, I love TO love. Love has to be the best and worst part of life. The best part, because there is absolutely no greater feeling than that which you feel when you are IN love. The worst, because love is never allowed to just be. It must always look a certain way, act a certain way, or even feel a certain way in order for it to be valid. No matter who you are, this is true. Think about it. Someone some where has told you that they loved you, but failed to convince you because they did not act the way that you wanted them to act. My husband told me that he loved me. But the moment he put his hands on me for the third time ( not the first, nor the second, but the third) , I had to come to grips with the fact that maybe just maybe he didn't. At least not the way that I would like for him to. Reality is that he may in fact love me, but I can't accept his love.
"If someone you love hurts you cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it."