It died....

Growing up in my generation, we were taught that you would find that one person. You would fall in 

love, get married and no matter what the world said it would be you and that person against the world. You would laugh, cry, fight, make up and move on with things. Nothing would get between you! The power of your love would conquer everything and you would always be so so happy... but they lied. 

"Everything has it's time and everything dies" - Christopher Eccelston as Dr. Who. Season 1, Episode 2.

That quote I've used for a while now, little over a year when I realized that the Dr. was (SURPRISE) right about something. Nothing is permanent, everything has its time and everything, even love, can and will die. Roughly a year ago today, I saw love die where I had wanted it to so much to live. The love my wife had given me died, I'd over slept and she decided she no longer wanted to give me a chance. Our relationship was done with, over, kaput. I went out of the apartment and walked the streets that night, spent a good time out there thinking. Watching people stare at me and wonder what I was doing there. The only white guy on the streets in a Black/Hispanic neighborhood. Not exactly the safest place for a guy like me. I came back that night after almost getting stabbed, my wife, the humanitarian, let me stay there as she buried her love for me in her heart. 

I stayed there for a few weeks, trying to find a place to live other than there, because as I lived there I saw something... the hardest thing anyone can ever see in their lives. 

 And it hurt... o Gods did it hurt me. I had to listen every day how happy they were as I looked for someone to stay with. Sleeping on the couch while another man held the woman I loved in bed. That is no way for a person to live. No one should have to go through that, but I did and I died for it. 

I died, a year ago today as I watched them love each other. I finally found somewhere to go, a woman and her three generations of her family under one roof. It was a mistake, one that I regret and I have trouble dealing with. Let's just say that drunk people think that once you fall asleep drunk "No, fuck off" no longer counts.

I was supposed to leave for basic on a certain day... so I decided to spend a week with my wife, my children, before I left. She wanted me to as well, promising me there was nothing between her and him. I believed her, believed him. But then, one day I was left alone in the house. Left to my own devices and somewhat bored and curious. That nagging voice at the back of my head saying "they are lying to you. Do not trust them. The bed is situated wrong. Investigate. Look. Discover." I shouldn't have listened to that voice, I should have let myself believe such a beautiful lie, but I knew within my heart hat was what it was, a lie. And my heart had enough hurt that it didn't want lies anymore, just the ugly truth, which I discovered under that mattress, in that box.

My heart was torn again by the betrayal of my discovery. I moved out, found a new place to stay. Living a an androgynous woman, an FtM transgender and a woman. It was an interesting household... so accepting, non judge mental, calming... they accepted who I was. comforted me in my betrayal. They made me feel worth it, they drove home that I was worth so much and that I only needed to put forth the effort. It was amazing.

I went through basic, and AIT. My wife lying to me time and again, I believing the lies until I found the truth once more. This cycle continued, and it hurt me. Made me afraid to love. Afraid to trust someone with my heart. Yes, it died, love died within me. I could not live well without it, but I chose to move on. I wanted to die, but I had friends that saved me. I wanted to go into hiding, but I had people who wanted me. I wanted to live without love, but love will always find its way in to the smallest crack, the deepest hole, the darkest alley.

For, though love may have died. Though my heart may have become torn asunder and strewn across the world, it was not permanent. My heart is scarred and patched, yet it is beautiful. Love may have died, but the ember is being fanned and with that slight fanning, it will regrow into something fierce.

Yes, it died. Painfully so, but now.... it may live again. It may come back and be a more powerful force, a driving force, a loving force of warmth and comfort. For to know love, to know it and feel it. To give it freely and to receive it freely. That is to live. That is life.

Love freely, laugh freely. Live freely.