A Storybook Ending

There's been words turning in the back of my mind for weeks -- a story I've been trying to find the exact words to describe, finding just the right shade of gray to paint.

It started with this girl who had everything, whose life was so full it was bursting at the seams -- and she knew this very well, because before this, she had little to nothing. Before this she was the girl with thighs so burlesque she couldn't fit into clothes and her best friend sewed her dresses. A girl with a bruised heart, devoid of self love, a girl with a half always empty. She was a girl who rebuilt her outside to finally match her inside, but still putting her faith in the wrong places. Until finally, finally, he came into her life, from no where and then forever.

Finally, she knew what it felt like to have everything, and she cherished it every day. She loved him fully, even in the places he was broken, especially in the times he may not have liked himself. Before bed time, she closed her eyes to hear nothing -- no voices churning over what-ifs, what-nots, what-will-bes -- because finally, she was whole. And she was grateful.

One day, this girl woke up still thinking she had it all, but by nightfall, it was never to be the same again. Never had she felt so completely broken or thrown so far off the course of her life. She didn't want to give him back, she didn't want to give up, she didn't want to let go. She took pills to fall asleep, to quiet the doubts in her head, the ones that had her gasping for air. She didn't think she would ever breathe again. . .

But she did. And much to her surprise, she didn't fade back into the sad girl, the girl pitying herself or blaming her thighs. She was now stronger, stronger than she had ever been before.



It gets easier every day, every moment I am further away from the hurt. It only seems to sting when I see our friends starting their families -- holding their babies in my arms, seeing the life that should have been our own.

I think to e-mail sometimes, or call. Some moments, I simply miss my best friend. But I don't let myself get caught up on the what-ifs, what-nots, and what-will-bes. I said all I could say, did all I could have done, moved the last piece on the chess board. I don't call because I am no longer a girl who chases love but let's love chase her. Because I deserve it, I deserve more.

A couple weeks ago, I said good night to some of our mutual friends, after sharing a wonderful evening with them. I walked to the car, looked up to the heavens, to the October moon hung low in the night sky, and smiled. Not a grin, or a smirk, but a full wide-toothed smile.

It was in that moment when I really told myself something I'd only whispered all along. This is my story. . . I want what I want, and I won't apologize for it. I give of myself fully, even in my most broken places, and deserve the same in return. I deserve the love that's going to shout it from the roof tops when he's falling and the love that runs down the runway when he knows he's been wrong. It was that moment, when I smiled because I'd finally realized. . . I'm the heroine in the story, and I have been all along.