cry.

Is it over yet
Can I open my eyes
Is this as hard as it gets
Is this what it feels like to really cry

— “Cry,” Kelly Clarkson

Sometimes I wonder if I was given an extra measure of weepiness to go hand in hand with the extra portion of emotional awareness that I curse way too often.

Two years ago I lost one of my best friends to a horrible car accident. A week later, I lost another one due to issues of public perception. In all honesty, even now I can’t tell you which one hurt more. In one a piece of my heart was taken away, never to come back. In the other, a piece was shattered into a million and one unrecoverable pieces with a constant physical reminder of what I saw as a failed friendship.

In the beginning I wanted them back. It was my heart, people weren’t allowed to just take something that didn’t belong to them. Isn’t that the mentality we have with everything. My stuff, my job promotion, my project, my dreams. All mine and not affected by everyone else. But we’re wrong. Surrounded by people. Interwoven stories based on time, location and common desires. We are as much apart of each other as we our ourselves.

There are some days still that the pain seems unbearable. On the really good ones, I don’t even notice it. Other days, it’s a dull ache in my chest that isn’t debilitating but can spark at any moment.

That is the way life and love are though. It isn’t always warm and fuzzy, and it doesn’t always beat you down. Sometimes there is just an unceasing thought in the back of your head, not present enough to demand your immediate attention, but enough that you know it’s present.

It’s those middle days that I have grown to love. Those days that remind me who I am and where I’ve come from. To remind me not to take the past for granted. To provide hope for a bright and glorious future. The never-ending lessons that come from the middle days teach me more and more what I value and shows me what I don’t want to be.

And it is with those lessons, that the million and one unrecoverable pieces become found. Because they may not be perfect, but I can see the pieces of who I am, and with God’s help, use them to be the person I long to be.

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