When I was seven, I loved Disney princess movies. I loved pretty much any Disney movie, really. I always believe they way the princesses made a wish and it came true was so magical. I was convinced that one day a tall man with dark hair and dreamy eyes wearing boots and a cape (yeah, cause that was standard Disney prince attire) would come literally sweep me off my feet while I was throwing shiny pennies I stole from my parents' coin bucket into a wishing well. I also figured I would have a wishing well, fully equipped with ivy growing up the sides and bricks chipped from years of wishing pennies being dropped to the bottom by hopeful young princesses.
When I was ten I asked for a telescope (and a bike and a pony and a car, but let's be realistic here) simply so I could look at all of the stars and dream about being an astronaut one day and exploring, seeing every star I'd ever made a wish on up close. I didn't take into account that all of the stars I'd wished on were dead by that point given the distance and speed of light, but I was still hopeful and wished on stars every chance I got. I would sit outside for an hour, searching for the brightest star before bedtime, and make my wishes, thinking about how tiny and insignificant my house was in comparison to the entire universe out there.
When I was 13, my friends and I all had our little lists of check boxed items that we wanted our dream man to possess. Blue eyes. Blond hair. Maybe a brunette. Green eyes. Maybe blue because then our kids would have blue eyes to match both of ours. Taller than me. Six feet was my favorite height. Some items were complete deal-breakers (at the time my biggest deal-breaker was if he didn't like a boy band I was in love with then he had to hit the road. Priorities, right?).
When I was 19 I had my first real heartbreak. I was convinced I was going to marry this guy, and not because he fit some silly list, or he wore a cape and rode a horse (although, I wouldn't put it past him), but because he wasn't any of those things. i thought I was rebellious (totally a joke on me), and I thought I knew everything. My pride took over. Well, that and as it turns out any kind of birth control makes me batshit psychotic. Truly, I think my parents' decided to just give up for a while until we figured out that I was bonkers because my hormones were so out of whack.
When I was 24, I truly broke someone's heart. We had fun, but it could never be serious. He was dangerous to my well-being, and once I realized that, I did what was best for me. I put myself first, and that meant someone else came last.
When I was 25, I met a man whom I've considered one of my best friends. I'd never met anyone who I'd even come close to connecting with nearly as much (aside from Kimber and Nic), and I essentially freaked out. I panicked; what if this never came along again? I'm not a person who has a large number of friends, or even people I would consider a friend. I've met a lot of people. I know a lot of people. I don't have a lot of friends. I have even fewer best friends that I put all of my trust in and lay everything on the line for. This heartbreak, this hurt to the core kind of damage, this is the heartbreak I made amends with never getting over. I packed up that relationship, put all of the tiny broken pieces of myself into a box, and put that box in the back, dark corner of my closet. At some point, you just need to pack it up and move on, because you know trying to make it work won't help. Some things aren't capable of being saved. Some things you just grow out of because you change fundamentally, and that's okay. It's okay to change and move on. It's okay as long as you aren't hurting yourself in the process. Sometimes things work out and all of your hard work and effort and tears and hope get you through. Sometimes you're the exception to the rule, and you're the princess that is swept away by a shockingly handsome constantly-leaves-you-without-words kind of good looking prince.
Ever watch Ender's Game? Or read the book, I only mention the movie first since it's visual. Well, at the end, when Ender goes into the final "test" and destroys the ship... It's kind of like that. Like everything was a lie. It was all an agenda I was clueless about; I was set up to be molded into this person I became, and although it was a better version of me, it still took a great deal of effort and trust and hope. It took challenges and weighing options, deciding if it's worth the effort, and ultimately I decided that it was so I kept pushing and giving it my all. Then, at the end, when the victory is supposed to be right in front of me to grasp and hold on to and to revel in, to breathe in, to relax in because all of my hope was worth something truly, innately good... It's ripped away like it was only ever a facade in the first place. I made amends with and accepted the fact that I would probably always be at least a little heartbroken about this relationship. This would be the one that got away. This would be the one I couldn't save, and this would be the one that destroyed my emotional capacity. This would be the one that made me give up hope.
So, now what? What happens when that box gets dragged out? What happens when you've finally made peace with yourself and with the universe, but this friend that you cared about and loved so much comes barging back in, mercilessly tearing down the walls you've spent months working to build back up in fear that someone else will do the same thing? What now?
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