James has not started the proceedings as he said he would, so, I have decided that it is now necessary to do it myself. I am tired of waiting and wondering. When this is finally over, I may not forget. I may not be happy immediately. But I will continue moving on until the pictures of his smile, the memory of his touch and voice, and the sight of familiar places don't bring me to tears.
The heart is such a strange machine. We store those we love in it, but it shows nothing when looked at. It is always filling, but never full. Broken, but no cracks can ever be seen, no scars from the breaks are left behind for the eye to see. And, when in love, it does not shine with a light to blind all passerby and reveal your feelings. Always, it looks the same. And, always, it beats on to the end of your days.
My heart is sore. It is broken and battered, glued and taped back together. Simulateously, I love. I can fall in love. It isn't as earth-shattering as my first great love, but it is love. Tender and full of promise. This love will grow. It will either encompass a new friend or something more. Only time will tell. But, love, despite heartache, is one of the greatest mysteries of the human heart in my book.
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