He made my heart skip. Even if it was just someone who looked like him, a flock of butterflies rose in my chest. Back then, I thought I really loved that guy.
Then came years of struggle. Plenty of good to make it all bearable. At least I thought so.
Then the dagger: Truth. And my martyr years.
Then later, justified, I sang my mantra, “He got what he deserved.”
And now the freedom years, gifted through giving. Forgiveness. Compassion.
Love gone full-circle, all the way to unconditional.