This is one of my very dear friends, Tyler. He likes commas way too much, if you ask me.
You probably need some context: a couple weeks ago, we talked about how he wants to get serious about his writing. He’s been blogging a lot since he moved to China (he’s there teaching English at Jilin University), and recently he told me about how journalism has sort of piqued his interest.
Well how perfect is it that one of his best friends studied journalism and was an editor in college? SO PERFECT.
He let me read over his upcoming blog and make edits to it. It hasn’t been published yet, so I have no idea if he’s actually going to pay attention to my edits. Damn does that kid love commas. “I love using them for hesitation in what is going to be said.” Oh, my dear. You’re comma splicing. Stahp. (Update: he did use my edits. Praise the good Lord.)
But this whole post isn’t going to be about Tyler. It’s more to spin off the topic that was in his post: love.
Love is a funny thing: it’s scary and exciting, painful and rewarding. Love is incredible and it’s awful all at the same time. My friends and I have gone through quite some love stories — all of them including joy and heartbreak and sometimes really hilarious situations. Love is what makes the world go ’round. Some of my favorite quotes about life are from The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
Ugh. How true is that statement. Especially to me. Most of my friends know about my experiences with dating, I’m rather transparent about all that. Unfortunately, I’ve let myself think that the treatment I’ve received in the past has been worthy of me. It hasn’t. Not all of my relationships have been bad, some have been good. Pretty much all of them have taught me incredibly valuable lessons. Lessons I wouldn’t have learned if things had gone any differently.
Some breakups have been more sad than others, one was downright heartbreaking. Without going into too many details, it was someone I had wanted to be with for quite some time. When it actually seemed like things were good, it took a turn for the horrible. But boy, did I love him. How fiercely I wanted to show him how much I could love him… he says he loved me, too, but he didn’t actually want me. I don’t tend to let myself cry over these situations, but this one I couldn’t hold back. It was right before my Miss Covina audition and first Walsworth interview. Talk about needing to compartmentalize.
I’ve come a long way from that. Through it all, my comfort is in Christ. I know in the deepest parts of my soul that no one could love me and comfort me like Him. Lost love is a tragic thing. Thankfully, the only person who counts will never stop loving you or me.