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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

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A reflection upon that day in everyones life when they finally find themselves by themselves, the road there, and the outcome. Based on personal experience, love is a vice experienced best after you take control of your own life.

"I love you." He looked down on her. She knew it in her heart. The way he looked so lovingly into her eyes, the way the words spilled out of his mouth, the way he would carry her in his arms, she knew it was his act. Not from the first “I love you” did she dare believe it to be true. But she pretended. She always pretended.

Her first mistake, her first love, as it seemed to her to be what usually is. She didn’t listen to her friends sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear, “he is a pretender.” She just wanted to be loved, even if it meant it wouldn’t be real. He was a demon, a shadow, an incessant entity that followed her every thought, controlled her every move, censored her every wonder.

“You never forget your first love,” her mother insisted. She wanted to though. She wanted so badly to forget the tears, the hurt, even the joy. She wanted to throw away the letters, the pictures, the memories. But she couldn’t.

He called her, when his new relationship was going downhill, he called her. She thought, “how horrible I must have been in some past life to deserve this.” She was his yo-yo, his doormat, his never fading fan. He was prideful, arrogant, and wonderful in her eyes. He stopped by, taking her into his arms, and she reluctantly submitted as she had on that night in March when her whole life changed, when he became her everything, when he took from her the only thing she could not get back.

She submitted knowing someday, and someday soon, he would find another. She submitted knowing everyday, through that someday, he would gain control of her again. He entered her mind as she looked at herself loathingly in the mirror, as she starved, as she secluded herself until she no longer knew who she was.

Then he found her, another. But he kept stopping by to make sure she, the never fading fan, was still by his side, ready for his beckoning when he needed it to be so. She played his game. She played it until she too found someone new. Someone who opened her eyes, shed light on the mirror, and fed her. Someone who fed her beauty and fed her kindness. He fed her courage.

Not until one day months later, at her fading idols beckoning, did she fully wake up. She said no for herself, she said no to him, and she said yes to a life in which she had control. One where she had control over her faith, her opinions, her beliefs, her love, and her future.

Ten years later she passed by him, her faded idol. She dancing in the rain and he simply just getting wet.

Submitted: August 30, 2007

© Copyright 2022 HN Bradley. All rights reserved.

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