More than a feeling

On the eve of Canada Day, seven years ago my knight-in-shining whatever (my high school boyfriend) and I went through a horrible break up. It was heart wrenching because it was the first time someone I ever loved broke my heart. Somehow already knowing what this feels like makes it a bit less devastating. My cheeks haven't entertained tears, my pillows haven't had to sustain the throws of passionate sobs to which they were once accustomed. Yes, I am sad, but I have the confidence in knowing that this time I put everything on the table, including my heart.

Last time I thought our friendship was at least salvageable. This time I know better. I know that he will always mean more to me than I mean to him and that his complacency will only mean that he will let me run to him and I will always hope for something more.

Perhaps as with the cyclical nature of fate's intervention in my life it's finally time to admit that i really wanted him to be more than he was destined to be, and more importantly, more than he wanted to be.

To be frank, despite his talent for acting, I know he'll never end up as the leading man in my life. Even if he does care about me as much as he says, I don't feel like I am excelling in any way when he's a part of my life. Instead I feel like a wilty flower who needs to be tended to and cared for (much like the rose in our favourite, "Petite Prince" allegory). I also feel dull and fragmented. It's almost as if he steals the very essence of me and instead he shines brighter than ever.

I can't live each day with this uncertainty, just hoping for those rare few and far between moments when he says something so unexpectedly sweet it takes my breath away. Isn't that the same as settling? And what's the use in both of us settling for something we don't want?

Even though it's hard to forget your high school sweetheart, I'm been through this too many times before with him. This time I need more than a feeling. Maybe its finally time to leave that passion where it belongs, in the past.