Months pass and here I am still faithful to the same guy, still sitting next to the handsome gentleman in class, still going through the motions. Then it hit me. It hit me quicker than snow would melt in July. Why am I letting my fears control my future?
What fears, you ask? The fear of hurting someone else and myself. The fear of regret. The fear of losing friends. The fear of being replaced. They all terrorized me so I kept someone around that didn't deserve being towed along for the ride. That is the funny thing about your fears; when you fear something, you are giving it the power to control your life. We let these jitters have authority of our dreams and our souls every time we have to make a decision and that, buddy ol' pal, is not the way to live your life. Sermon over. Back to the story.
I could not let my life continue the way it was. So I did what any 20 year old would do-I called my Mommy. She gave me life lesson #46 (which turned out to be pretty cliche) always follow your heart. So there I was, in the midst of finals, planning out how to change my whole world.
At the end of the week, when finals were over, I drove my suitcase filled car to his house. Marched up those stairs and let him know I couldn't do it anymore. I think that was the first time in two and a half years that he could not read my mind. For some reason though, my words did not seem to rattle him. He either assumed I wouldn't keep my promise this time or, I believe, he knew the path we were on was leading to this. So, as I marched back down those stairs for the last time, tears filled my eyes. Tears of relief but also, once again, fear. I knew my friend group was about shift and my social life was going to have to be adjusted. As much as I struggle with change, I knew it is necessary for growth and we both deserved that.
I hopped back into my car, and started my drive home for winter break. Clear head and clear eyes (full hearts? anyone?). Life was going to be okay. It was going to be more than okay. I turned up my Taylor Swift and did not look in my rear-view mirror once on my five hour drive home. Figuratively, of course.