Spilled Milk

Love – like real love, for me anyway, doesn’t go away.
I can get angry and I can get sad, my heart can break into a million tiny little pieces and I can’t force myself to stop loving.

I have had so many talks about it.
About how for some reason your connection with someone doesn’t go away.
Even if you want it to.
It lingers.
Lingers in different ways with different people.

I have spent a lot of time thinking.
Even when I don’t want to be thinking here lately, I think.

True love, like deep, emotional, passionate love.
Love that you can literally feel in every part of your body, not just your heart.
Love that when you think about it years after it has ended, still brings tears to your eyes.
You still have to catch your breath.
The memories make you giggle to yourself and sometimes you have to even laugh out loud.
The kind of love, that doesn’t ever leave.
Pieces of you know it isn’t right for you now, maybe it never even really was.
You can remember the feelings you had when you kissed, when you danced, when you just held hands.
You can still describe perfectly the plans you made together, the dreams you shared, the dates you had, the fights you fought.
Every little detail.
Maybe you forced them out of your mind, maybe you have gone on with your life accepting that it was just a once in a lifetime type of thing and you just won’t find it again.
Whatever it is.
Whatever it was.
When you think about it, completely get lost in the memories and the feelings, the tears just flow.
You feel it in your heart, your lungs, your entire body.
A kiss on the cheek felt more intimate and more loving than any words can even try to describe.

I’ve had that kind of love twice in my life.
I guess that should make me feel lucky.
I should be happy that I lost it and then found it again.
I said I have had it though, not that I have it.
As in past tense.
As in not any longer.
The two times were both during such different times in my life.
One was young and stupid and one was mature and felt so much more real, serious.

I saw something that said “sometimes we love someone way too much.”
I commented and said “and it just won’t ever go away.”

It won’t.

I believe in those loves.
I feel that love in my gut when I think about them.
I don’t know if I will find my way to that love again.
I don’t know if they were my soulmate or my true love or any of that stuff.
I don’t even really know for sure if the feelings were returned with the same amount of intensity.
I don’t know if they are happier with where they are now than when they were during their time with me.
Maybe they found that love with someone else by now.
Who knows.
We don’t know.
It doesn’t matter either, because for me it was real.
We can only keep on living.
Only time will tell, I was just reminded of that today…

Young love; my young love was crazy.
Crazy. Crazy. Crazy.
He taught me what love was.
He taught me a lot.
He showed me how your best friend can make the best lover.
With him I began to understand how some things will never leave your mind or your heart.
All of my relationships have made me think of him.
In my mind I compared the way I felt when I kissed them or the way I felt when I missed him or when he looked in my eyes.
All the things that made me float, I always wondered if someone else could do the same thing.
Make me feel the same way.
I got to a point where once that love was over, I just assumed I wouldn’t find it again.
Once in a lifetime.

That young love and I were robbed.
Robbed of so much.
So much time and so many memories.
Age itself being the main suspect.
We did what we thought was best.
For the most part.
The love I have for him never left me though.
It has always been there.
It changed from sadness when we pulled apart to a more mature hope for his happiness.
I still remember when we became official and I still remember every word he said the first night I stayed with him.
Every word.
I can see his face, his eyes, I can take myself right back.
I loved him then, I love him now.
I will really always love that man.
All the things we have been through and all the things we have dealt with and I still know with every piece of me that I love him.
He still shows me that loving your best friend can last a lifetime.
Even if the surroundings change, the love doesn’t.
Something keeps you attached, nothing physical.
I don’t mean that I spend my days hoping he and I will one day run off into the sunset together, I mean I loved him and I always will.
It’s simple yet so complicated at the same time…

My mature love came out of nowhere.
I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with him.
I don’t know what I was expecting with him but it definitely wasn’t what I got.
He taught me the mature way to love.
To dream together but not in a childish way, in a way that you actually work together to make those dreams come true.
He was my best friend also.
Best friends really do make you the happiest.
I think being friends first and starting with just the basics of a loving relationship make all the difference.
I can still hear our conversations, our long talks.
Sometimes when things happen I have to stop myself from picking up the phone to call and tell him about it.
I told him everything.
I wanted him to know things about me that no one else knew.
I wanted to share my entire life with him.
My mature love wasn’t just about us, it was about the kids and our families and our friends.
It was so much more than just us.
It was fun.
It could be fun and silly one day and strong, real, grounded the next.
When I think back of the time I shared with him I smile, then I cry, then I giggle and I cry some more.
I wasn’t prepared for him.
The saying that the timing was off is very true with us.
It wasn’t the right time.
The connection we shared, or maybe that we share, was something I had never experienced before.
The relationships I gained from my time with him are some of the most precious to me.
I was an adult but he helped me grow up.
He cared, not in a generic kind of way but a real genuine concern.
A concern that you can’t fake.
I could see myself sitting on a park bench at 80 years old holding his hand.
Nothing would have made me happier than to make that vision come true.
I love him.
I will always love him.
He has a piece of my heart and my soul.
I think he knows that.
I think he knows how important he is to me.
Even if I can’t tell him, even if I never have the chance to show him again, I think he knows.
Part of growing up is realizing that you want nothing but happiness for the people you love; even if that means not being in their life.

Stuff happens.
Life happens.
We have to go through stuff.
We just do.
Stuff we don’t want to go through.
The relationship might end but the love doesn’t.
The love still tugs at your heart during certain moments, certain songs, certain movies.
I lived through some really major moments with the ones I fell in love with.
Memories were made that no one else will ever know about.
Don’t cry over spilled milk.
I laugh about spilling it and no one else will ever know why.
I spend part of my weekend face to face with eyes that bring back memories every time I look in them.
Life will continue to give you the same test until you finally pass it.
I would have laughed at that 3 years ago; now I am living it.




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