Hands up all those who agree with the above statement!
(Mellers sits resolutely on both hands and scowls at her poota, then realises that you can't type very quickly with your nose, so gets off them again - but I think you get the point). As far as I'm concerned the above statement is b*ll*cks.
It takes a certain type of optimist to regard moments of fleeting joy you felt for probably about 9 months tops, to be worth the years of subsequent pain, fear and hurt of losing the only man you've ever loved (or ever likely to love) and the subsequent comparison of every relationship you've had since to be a pale and limp imitation of what can only be described as the real thing. And i'm not it I'm afraid.
That's not to say it was ALL joy and roses. Far from it. In fact that main reason it ended was because of the amount of rows (which would often turn violent), but it WAS passion and it was desire and it was the first and only time I have ever felt so swept away by someone that I would have done anything for him, given him anything, of myself and all that I had or have. I would have laid my life down for him and was so hopelessly smitten that I also felt that the bruises were worth it.
That's what unconditional love did for me.
It was about 9 years ago now that he walked out on me taking everything he owned out of my life and leaving nothing behind of our plans to marry and have a family, except a note saying he was sorry. For the first 5 years I thought about him pretty much daily, but these days it is a little less. Except when the music brings him back in to my head like it did yesterday.
And then it's like he's just left me, all over again, and I weep for the woman I was. The fearless, care-free un-loved woman who never knew how wretched losing someone you love can be.
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