For some reason I can't sleep tonight.
So I get to cleaning out some rubbish (yes, it's strange how I deal with boredom), and chanced upon a folder filled with emails that Magdalene sent me.
As a wordsmith (I've been known to wax lyrical) I appreciate the strength of the written word; to me they are a representation of an instance - a moment trapped in time by the writer's whim.
So I read, and understood that the past is past, and that people change. I think I've changed somewhat too (we all do I guess). But in the process of change we often keep those that are overly sentimental to us.
When the letters and the gifts were shoved down the rubbish chute, I began to ask myself if she had done the same. The fact that I didn't even shed a tear while reading all her letters mean something, and for her to simply leave my stuff outside her house instead of having to meet me (FYI she's not said sorry yet) must mean she's beaten me to throwing out the relationship stuff.
(Thank god I took back all the letters that I wrote! I had a go at them and threw them out as well - bad writing has no reason for existence.)
In love we realize many things - that those in front of you may not be the ones; to look for that special person you may not have to search for too long. In the back of your head they may sit, but in your heart you know they've always belong. And for some it may be a long and tiring journey, trying out relationship after relationship only to realize they should have listened to their hearts all along.
(It's like insurance - good to have, but you'll have so much more money to spend if you give it a miss... But seriously, I like being in love.)
Three years of my life, donated for some primary school kid's writing paper. At least he'll have better use for it I guess.
And if you'll excuse me, I'll go back to getting back to sleep. They say forty-fifth time's the charm.