on the wing.

phew.



I was wrong.

That's the moral of this chapter.

Don't get me wrong, it was beautiful- he's beautiful, but I look back at my words from over 2 months ago, and I'm just struck by the stupidity of them.

I make of myself a martyr, albeit prodigal in my choices about giving pieces of myself away. For some reason, even if I can clearly see that he just doesn't want to be with me, I continue to throw little bits of my heart at him, hoping he'll change his mind, hoping he'll have that miraculous moment of epiphany. And then, well, and then, it just doesn't happen. So the fire burns, and the ash falls.

My heart is not a fishing lure.

My heart is not a bargaining tool.

My heart is not expendable.

Boys are snow. They coat every inch of everything. Stunningly, Breath-Taking-Away-ly. They cloud your vision, make it easy to fall. There's way more accidents when they're around. But it's amazing, it's a wonder and a gift straight from God.

But the snow can melt, and when it does, you're gonna be left with your little patch of brown dirt and grass. And you sure as hell better learn to love it, play in it, get messy, find beauty in it, because that's all you've really got.

I'm certainly going to give it my best.