On Broken Wings And Relearning to Fly Part I

Normally I have no trouble getting the words down once I pick a topic. Normally I don't dread making a post. Normally I'm not afraid of what people are going to think when they read it.

I suppose there must be a first time for everything.

My tattered well-loved copy of Webster's defines love as a warm attachment and the passion between the sexes.

My Bible has several definitions but my personal favorite is 1 Corinthians 13:4.

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Through my own stupidity I lost the first person I loved and in doing so broke my own heart in the process. For those first two months at least, the only thing keeping me somewhat sane was that I had disappointed Tinkerbell. I would all I could to avoid doing so ever again. I hated myself but I had to try and make amends.

I lost count of how many sleepless nights I've had, crying to myself.

I lost count of how many times in those first two months the thought of suicide actually crossed my mind.

I lost count of how many times I would try and eat only to throw it up shortly after.

I had no idea who I was anymore. So I had to learn to depend on her, and soon enough, I did. She was the one person I actually talked about my emotions with. Everyone else thought I was getting better much quicker than I actually was. She knew better and would call me on it.

Slowly I started to believe I wasn't trash. I thought maybe I really could have a second chance.

Funny how life works out sometimes, I found my second chance at happiness but not in the way I was expecting.

While taking community college classes before transferring to UNC, I had a Developmental Psych course with Eva. We had gone to high school together even though we were never really friends but we became study buddies and then friends.

Somehow Eva got it in her head that I was dating material. I was actually gobsmacked when she admitted it. Then against my head's warnings, I started to like her as well. The problem? I loved Tinkerbell.

I refused to admit I liked Eva for about a month but at the same time, Tinkerbell had met a very good guy and we were realizing that we couldn't be together. We wished each other well in trying new relationships.

Slowly I let myself develop feelings for Eva. Feelings that came to a head May 24, when I asked her out when we had gone dancing.

What seems like a lifetime ago, I gave my word to hold nothing back from Tinkerbell and had done my best to keep that promise. She said she didn't want to hear about Eva as it hurt too much and I respected that decision.

A bit of trivia about Tinkerbell. She knows me better than just about anyone in the world and she can tell when something is bothering me so when she asked I told her. I guess I pushed her too far because she told me I merely saw her as my shrink.

People, I do not open up easily. At all. In fact, it's taken me hours just to get myself to share this much with you. But to hear that from her, I had to ask myself if I did.

I even asked my other close friends if I treated them like that.

With a higher reluctance to talk to people about my problems, how was I to even attempt a relationship with Eva? Sadly, I will have to finish this story tomorrow. Too many buried emotions have been unearthed as is and I need a break. Sleep would be great too.

To be concluded...