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When I was a little girl,
I used to sit in the front porch of my house in Cuba and look at the clouds. I
imagined what things the shapes could represent; sometimes it was an alligator,
an elephant, or maybe a crow. I remember one day when I was three years old, I
looked up and I saw in the sky a couple holding hands. I smiled up at the sky
and then continued to play with my dolls, but the image didn’t leave my mind.

            It could have been days, weeks, or months later, but I
remembered what I saw in the clouds, and I imagined in my baby brain the kind
of man I’d one day want to marry me. Because that is what makes a little girl’s
mind so beautiful and so innocent; the fact that she doesn’t imagine
boyfriends, wrong relationships, the negatives, she simply dreams of the good
things. She dreams of her future husband. What I imagined that day was
something I was unaware I’d one day hold in my very own hands. The same small
hands that in that moment attempted to braid a messy do on my long wavy locks
as I imagined a perfect future.

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            What I never imagined and what I could have never
foreseen that day, or any other day, was that as beautiful as the turn my life
would take one day and I would meet him,
things would go terribly wrong. Not because I didn’t love him or because he
didn’t love me, but because time was a traitor and it betrayed me with a dagger
stabbed on my back leaving me breathless and paralyzed.

            Being in that place is one I seemed to find myself in
when that something great ended. The moment where the relationship was over and
there was nothing left, yet it seemed to continue on. In our case we were
broken up, but we were still talking and flirting; it felt natural to have the
other simply there. The situation was horrible. Any logical person would say I could
not put myself in that position, and they would have been right. But when the
time came where I had to walk away from him…
the one I had trusted with my heart, emotions, mind, body, and soul, the person
that had made me the happiest I ever thought was possible, the one who knew all
of your secrets and what I was thinking even before I said it out-loud, the
person I thought the world of, the person I had shared years of memories and
feelings with, it was so difficult to turn around, walk away and never look
back. And I don’t think that’s how it was supposed to go regardless; even if
the world told me the pain it would cause in the long run for keeping them in
my life after ending it all.

            Here was the simple truth: I was never going to find
someone like him again. Maybe someone
smarter, someone more attractive, someone less attentive, someone funnier, someone
less confident, but definitely someone
different than him, however, never someone like him. When someone makes you feel as good and as bad as only he
could do to me, you should be able to hold on to that for as long as it is
possible. Happiness is a feeling envied by many. As a human, I like anyone
else, spend my entire life searching for happiness and hoping to get it, and
when I finally have it, would I give it up without looking back? No. If he took
me to the highest peaks of happiness when I was with him, I shouldn’t have to
let him go. Because for every stupid fight that blew over nothing, there was a
late-night makeup that made us run to each other and kiss as if it was the last
time. For every angry text saying: “I can’t do this anymore”, there was a good
morning apology that reminded me why I cared so much. For every restless night
spent crying, there were the laughter’s we share rolling around in his bed
until our sides hurt. Even if there are times I can’t stand to look at him—and
those times will come often—I still understand that he makes me feel truly
happy and I should not lose that.

            This is a judgmental world where everything we do is
scrutinized and finding someone special who looked at me without judgmental
eyes and still thought I was the most amazing person, is someone I should
cherish for as long as possible.

            I am going to regret a lot of things from that
relationship after parts of it have been damaged, but I will also cherish the
new memories that are created. Of course I regret the stupid fights that never
should have happened in the first place, or the way I acted at times, or
perhaps what triggered our break-up in the first place… the list goes on. In
the end, break-ups are the worst. But it is the hardest thing in the world to
go cold turkey from a person who took my breath away for the past two years. It
hurt waking up without his calls or messages and knowing he was not mine anymore.
The worst of all? When I wake up one morning and it could be days, weeks,
months, or years from today and I hear he has given his heart to someone else.
What hurts more than that? Knowing that he has taken back the part of his heart
that he gave to me.

            Moving on is difficult, but I would rather move on
progressively than in one prompt heart-wrenching pain even if it is best. If
he, the person I love, still wants me, why would I not open up my heart to them?
Maybe I will realize that all of those feelings I had are gone, maybe I will understand that I need this person in your life, maybe I will confuse the hell out of myself, or maybe I will
realize that it’s worth trying again.
But at least tomorrow or sixty years from now, I won’t regret taking one, two,
fifty, or a thousand more chances to see things can still work.

            It hurts to know things are over and one of us could move
on, it’s not easy for either parties. It is the worst feeling to go through
heartbreak and going through it over and over throughout the course or weeks,
months, etcetera, is emotionally draining. However, there is so much to gain by
fighting for a love I once had, whether I gain a friend from the experience or
a partner. Even if I know that love has almost
completely evaporated, I should not let go of something until it breaks me.

Screw
playing it safe. Falling in love is dangerous in the first place. If I am going
to play a dangerous game, I best be prepared to get hurt—and probably the worst
kind of hurt I will ever be. I’ve been hurt before, but I don’t have to be
scared to get hurt again because the happiness he will make me feel in between
is worth it. He will make me feel like I have wings and I can fly, even if I
end up falling anyways. Science itself proves this in Isaac Newton’s third law:
For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. He makes me the
happiest, but that also means that I am vulnerable enough to them, that they
are also the ones who can hurt me most.

            Once everything is completely over—and I mean everything—then
it is the time to let go. If there are no mutual feelings, no friendship, no
respect, no trust, no care, then I have to say goodbye. But if we both have
remnants of the past, then we have to embrace those feelings until we crush
them and it creates a timeline continuum, a new star in the sky, or maybe goes
up in flames. I will never know until I try.

So,
I would do anything to have the courage to stay up for five more minutes when
texting him even if I work early the next day. The courage to stay for that
moment he holds my arm to balance me from falling. The courage to breathe in
his scent slowly and hug him closer when he kisses my cheek. The courage to
look him in the eyes even if my cheeks flush and think it’s crazy, because for
a few split seconds we were both in a different dimension. I would do anything
to have the courage to lean in for one more kiss and do it like the world is
ending even if it sends everything to hell
and back, because in that moment, it is all that matters. I may not have
the courage for that, but most importantly, I do have the courage to not walk
away from someone that I once held so highly in my mind until I know for a fact
that we both did everything.

I’m
yet to be in a place in my life to know what is to happen, but all I know is he is in my life and I am not ready to
let go of that. Maybe never. He is still my best friend and I’m not ashamed to
text him at 5am, or tell him what I truly think, or snap him back into reality
with his feet on the ground, or tell him about how good or how bad my day was,
or listen to the stories he tells me. The romantic spark is like a diamond in
the rough which we have hidden. The curiosity to want to know how it would look
if it were to be re-polished is there; feelings are still there, but they’re
buried underneath layers we have created and it’s enough for now. It’s enough
to be able to still look each other in the eyes and hold the amicability that
we do.

            When I met him,
I thought I was ready. I thought I was ready for him and he thought he was
ready for me. Even in the midst of the chaos we would cause each other at
times, it felt right. I loved him more than I ever thought was possible to love
a person. He was my piece of the universe; one I could hold and be proven that
loving imperfection was the most perfect act that existed on earth. But it
wasn’t enough, it never was. As much as I loved him and he loved me, it wasn’t
enough to stay together then. Because love isn’t enough sometimes and I never
understood that until I lived through it. Time was just not on our side, and as
mature as we both were… fifteen and nineteen-year old’s building a future
together from scratch was something time couldn’t hold together then; not even
with super glue.

            He loved me. He loved me in the way I believe a person
that truly loved another person would act. He loved me in a crazy way where he
proposed to me fourteen times and it wasn’t crazy at all. In a way where he
would pretend to enjoy the movies I watched just to make me happy. In a way
where he would stay up all night talking to me, and all I had to do was text
and he’d show up wherever just to see me. In a way where he would write me love
letters, where he would sing me to sleep at 3am after he got home from work
tired, where he would braid my hair for me, where he would mindlessly grab my
hand as if by habit already, where he would look at me like I was the only girl
in the world. In a way where he planned his entire future with me various
times. In a way where he fought for me even when the timing was wrong. He loved
me.

            And I loved him. I loved him in a way I never thought was
possible. I loved him in a way where he snook up on me and became my world. I
loved him in a way that I gave him a ring made of twigs from the trees promising
forever right back to him. I loved him in a way where I wrote him love letters.
I loved him in a way where I would rest my head on his chest and feel his heart
beating faster and faster at my touch. I loved him in a way that I would
constantly be doing things for him because I needed him to see just how much he
meant to me. I loved him in a way that every time I saw him, my heart felt like
it was bursting against my rib cage with a case of tachycardia. I loved him in
a way that touching him was love. I loved him in a way that being fifteen and
imagining the rest of my life with him didn’t seem crazy at all; it felt
peaceful and amazing.

            We loved each other in a way that time wasn’t ready to
handle. We were epic.

The
way life takes its turns and curves isn’t always the way we expected it to go,
but there are those silver lining moments in life; the ones where everything
seems destroyed on the surface, but you still tell yourself that some good can
come out of all of this. That it can all be resolved. That it will all end in
something beautiful, because there is simply no other way. When instead of
being in the calm before the storm, you are standing in the storm before the
calm.

That
was how it was the full year before I met him. Although our story began many
years before then…

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