I've been living quite the turn of events since I last posted on my blog. A nightmare of sorts if you will. Now my life has a horrific story that has sadly left a gaping wound for the rest of my days. If you were to scroll through my past life (aka: this blog) you will find a magical, rare, meaningful, and incredible love story that is now shattered, non-existent, and gone. His name will no longer live in the present or future of my writing. What's in the past, well, is unable to be erased. I've learned the meaning of the word past. And now there is no turning back.
So, as I continue to put one foot in front of the other, take another breath, live 1 day at a time, and put on an act, I am allowing time to bring me back. My hope is by writing this sad, ugly story of heartbreak and loss, I find healing. Saying it out loud makes it real and that is exactly what it is. This really happened. And some days, that is hard to believe. As I lend my story to the world and lay it all out there for me, I have to hope that I don't walk myself down this path again if love is something that I still want to find. That is yet to be determined. And if I decide to share my life again with someone, it won't be taken for granted, used, stomped on, or insulted.
I'll never speak ill of him. For the life we had was nothing short of a masterpiece, better than the best romantic movie- because it was real, we were real. Until one day it changed without warning. I never saw it coming. That was the day I took a bullet. It moved slow and painful, bleeding out my whole being, withering me away. It wrecked me. It took 37 days to kill me. But then I realized, I was able to start living.