The one thing I have learned through all of this, is that love is the most holy heavenly objective in the base world. Let none of you hear what I have heard so many times over: "I loved you for two-and-a-half years, and I fought for you, and now it is over." Like an episode, or a book, or anything whose edges mean finality.
How can he fail to feel what moves me, and what moves in the air around me? I am helpless, and deceived, yet I am in possession of the greatest clarity I have ever felt. I despise what I had been for those years, the petty, trifling, moody little girl that I was, and I love only what faith has bloomed since. And I love him. I will always love him. And all of the kindness that has been handed to me, graciously, with nothing wanted in return. Even in light of that, I feel like it is all over. If I were to stop lying to myself, I would have to say that there is nothing left but faith and hope for another love like I had, and finding that love, wholeheartedly and without substitution, in the weather, in the work, and in wakefulness.
Lord, have mercy upon me. I don't want my heart back, but for it to be given entirely to others. Instead of withdrawing, I will let my love spread from one man to all other instances of kindness, grace, and diligence. Lord, have mercy upon me.
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