“And I clearly remember the first time I ever looked into your eyes. They were so bright and wide. It was the first time I ever was able to experience how people can be truly genuine and kind. I felt as if I knew you from a past life. I felt free. I felt limitless possibilities. Yet somehow, I knew that you were special. I knew that you would have a major effect on my life. I suspected that I would fall in love with you. In fact, the very same day I met you, I prayed that you wouldn’t break my heart. That I wouldn’t have to deal with the unimaginable scrutiny of heartbreak. But I kept running into you, and I knew that I liked you immediately. There was just something about you. Yet now, just 9 months later after the internal conflict and destruction of self that I endured from loving you in vain, when I look into your eyes I begin to feel angry and betrayed. The love and possibilities that I felt when I met you have turned into hatred and bitter coldness. I hate having to see you. Still, I love the subtle occasions when you and I see each other and you look into my eyes. Because then you see the passion. I know you do. You see the love and the extraordinary beauty that my soul has to offer. My love doesn’t feel so in vain anymore, and I reclaim my power and the virtuosity of my heart.” —(via mauricehuff)

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.