Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

*This is a bit different from the rest of the story. I'm one of those people who has to get things out on a page, sometimes, to get it out of my head. I figure, perhaps Pam does, too.

I want to make you happy

But I've fallen, I'm sorry

So sad now we have become

The children trapped in the mazes

I'd give my soul to the one who has the courage

To find me and free me now

Lovedrug, Down Towards The Healing

Spring 2007

It's been a while, but I'm feeling verbose.

And it's actually not about him this time. Well, it's about a him. But not him him.

It's about Roy. And me.

I think I have a need to capture the beginning and end of things that happen in my life... that's the only time I ever seem to write.

And Roy and me... it's really over.

For good. No more turning back, no more weakness.

Done.

And I feel... indescribable.

How do you process 10 years. A life together? Mistakes or no, it's my life. Part of it... just... gone.

There were always good reasons why I loved Roy.

It was simple, being with him. He liked me how I was, how I always thought I was going to be. He was firm and steady, so I knew what life would look like. And for someone like me, cautious and unsure, there was safety in that.

I've decided, when you fall in love at 17 the world seems endless, open. You talk excitedly about taking life by storm, but 10 years later, you haven't left the place you've always been. And you realize that 17 is too young to know what actually living really does to plans and dreams, but by then, it feels too late to try again.

Until someone changes everything.

That someone should have been Roy.

It wasn't.

It's not Roy's fault. I'm not even sure it's mine. I think it's just life. Some people are ok with life being slow, expected. I thought I was one of them.

I'm not.

I'll miss Roy.

Not achingly, and every day, the way I've missed Jim, but even though he was inattentive; even though he took me for granted and never really tried to understand me, Roy does know me.

Not the way Jim does. The way that weakens my knees (God, I'm being cheesy), that encourages me and makes me laugh, convicts me and drives me to be more than I am. The way that doesn't require words. Or... didn't.

But Roy's been there for 10 years. Every day.

Jim doesn't know what I look like in the morning, or how I really fight. He's never seen the scar on my left hip and wasn't there when I broke my leg. He hasn't discovered all my annoying habits and he's never seen me cry. (You know, the ugly cry.)

And after what I've done, how I've twisted him inside, maybe he never will.

I want Jim there.

I want to try.

I also know what that requires of me.

And I don't feel brave.

Not yet.

The funny thing is, today, Roy gave me a push.

After everything, after what I did to him, and how we said goodbye, Roy still, when it's all peeled away, wants me to be happy. And I want that for him. Really, truly.

I did love Roy. First. Before anyone else.

That's not something you forget.

(P.S. You also don't forget to bury your journal deep, DEEP, inside your dresser where no one can ever find it and read all the stuff you just wrote.)