Old beginnings. New endings.

The beginning: October, 2008
"Hey, Mallory."
I whipped around at the commanding voice beckoning me across the noisy room with wide, questioning eyes. There he was, in all his glory.
"I like your shirt," he said with an upward nod, arms crossed over his chest. He was sitting there, behind the large desk that was not his. He was shining with confidence, as he always does.
I had no idea he even knew my name.
"Oh. Um. Thanks," I awkwardly responded, smiling half way.
"Yeah," he said, with a warm smile. "Where'd you get it?" he asked.
"Oh. I made it. Well, I just painted on the front." I brushed up the front of my body over the painted feather on my shirt and broke eye contact with him.
"Oh,wow. So... Are you an artist? Is art, like, your thing?" He scrunched his eyebrows as if he was really interested in my answer.
"No. Not really at all, actually." I felt dumb with my answer. Deep down, I wanted to impress him, but I knew I couldn't lie. I was not, nor am I now, an artist.
"Well your shirt says otherwise. You should make me one of those."
I did not know how to respond. So I just laughed awkwardly and shifted my eyes.
Then, without thinking, I said, "Okay. I will."
And then I smiled at him. And he smiled back. And it was genuine. We locked smiling eyes for a few seconds, and then someone else came up to talk to him and that was the end of it.



That was it.
The first encounter.
The peacock feather shirt is what started it all.


I fell for him on day one.

And we wrote a story together.

We exchanged words of love.
We exchanged words of hate.

There was laughing.
There was fighting.


We kissed each other.
We punched each other.

There was passion.
There was anger.


We sang.
We cried.

There were good times.
There were awful times.

We ran together.
We stood still together.

It was a bumpy road.
It was on and off.
I gave it all.
He took it all.
And it was wonderful.
But it was so terrible.


But, no matter, it's a good story that we wrote. 
A long and complicated story, but a good one, none the less.
They'll make a movie of us. Or a statue. Or a monument. 
Or something.

The ending: August, 2011
We spent the day together. It was normal. Driving around, windows down, holding hands, singing loudly.
It was the end but neither of us could face it or even say it.
"Yes, babe," he said. "I'll still love you even though we'll be far apart."
It was a lie. 
And I knew it. 
But I made myself believe it because that was the only way I wouldn't feel broken.
He dropped me off. I lingered. I didn't want to face that this was really the end. He was really leaving this time. But I didn't cry. I didn't even look sad. And I confidently left him behind after the perfect final kiss and an "I'll see you soon."



But I didn't see him soon.
And I did feel broken.



But after it all, I am a better person.
I am exactly who I am supposed to be.
Thanks to him.
And thanks to myself.
For letting it go.




I'm sorry. But I also forgive you.

"And I love to forgive and forget, so I'll try to put all this behind us.
Just know that my arms are wide open.
The older I get, the more that I know

it's time to let this go."

-James Morrison

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