When the last guy left me, part of me died. I spent at least the next four months trying to cope with this part of me that was still slowly dying, lying in misery and pain within me. I was chaotic and desperate, and I clung to anything that would numb the pain, even for a moment. Deep down somewhere, that part is still dying, what little of it is left.

But now that T has come into my life, it’s moving in reverse. I think somewhere in some account of a near death experience I read that being brought back from death is just as painful, if not more painful, than dying. And as T is slowly mending my soul with his love, I’m being brought back to life and I’m feeling again. I’m dying in reverse.

I can’t quite describe the sensation. There’s a grief, but as it is drawn out of me like venom from a wound, it burns. The great relief is that as I find life again, as I feel again, and as I love again, T’s love is a healing salve.

And beneath this whole process, there is this subtle hesitation to fully giving in to life. If I live again, part of me will depend on T. He will have power to bless or to curse. And as he has been the oracle of my healing, he could also be demise, just like the other boy was.

I was in the bookstore today, searching for Christmas presents. I was getting tired, my backpack growing heavy and my shoulders beginning to ache. And randomly, there in the architecture section, I thought of T. I thought of how far away he was, and I missed him. And I felt it, then. True, sincere love. Not merely attachment. Not infatuation. But love that brings with it the realization that I’m being bound to him.

I don’t know why T chose me, why he fell in love with me, instead of some other boy. I don’t know why, with all my weakness, my fault, my insecurity, that he loves me so completely. But he does. They say that you never fully heal from heartbreak until the next love comes along. Thank God for T, and for healing.