Goethe said: "Life belongs to the living, and he who lives must be prepared for changes."
My childhood self would have broken down in a sobbing heap thinking about such a thing, but I know that change is good, healthy even. Movement is a necessary foundation of life. The scenery out the window, no matter how beautiful it may seem, cannot always stay the same; even the most beautiful sunset can become stagnant without some sense of comparison. I understand all of this.
Still, I can't help but feel sad sometimes when I think back on all that energy, all that love that used to pour out of me in such a torrent on the page. All that love and he took it. He took it and ran and never looked back. It has been over two and half years and still I feel sad, thinking about such things.
That being said, I'm tired of playing the victim. And I'm tired of looking back and blaming my current predicaments on what used to be. Because honestly, I am proud of who I am. I am proud of my accomplishments and the decisions that I have made. Do I feel older? Wiser? Without a doubt. Do I still yearn for adventure and epic love? Sure. Now if only I could find that balance between the roots of wisdom and the passion of youth. Perhaps then I wouldn't feel so sad when I see her face in old pictures, grinning with girly ambition. Perhaps I would feel love and gratitude instead. After all, I wouldn't be here without her blind leaps and tragic falls.
And thank goodness for that.
