Broken

I've had my heart broken before, but never like this. I had cried out my eyes until only dust remained so many times in the previous months, but still I fought to keep it alive. Then the day came that I knew I couldn't do it any longer. It was over.

Had it been a romance, I doubt the sorrow would be so acute. Instead, it was the death of a dream come to life. I'd fought—hard—every waking moment, and more than enough sleeping, to keep it going, to make it last another day. No matter what I did, it just wasn't enough.

When I got sick, I wasn't sure what to do with myself. For months. Then a flash of brilliance: open a bookstore. A pipe dream from over the years become a nearly feasible reality.

The thing about getting sick—this time, at least—was that I finally learned that only I could control when happened in my life. I stopped letting fear stop me from pursuing something crazy and absolutely insane.

And so I quit my job and opened a bookstore for kids and teens. It's much more complicated than that, but for now I'll say that passion can lead a person through so many incredible hardships so long as possibility remains. It stayed a good time, but eventually possibility became harsh reality. No matter what I had or hadn't done, it wouldn't last.

Tears didn't fall the day I made the soul-splitting decision to close the store. We just hadn't gotten enough people in who would buy books. Another time, another town . . . but it didn't matter. What-ifs bring pain, not resolution, and I already hurt more than I could realize. I didn't question but moved forward with what-must-be-done.

But eventually the must-be-dones were done, and time to think returned. With thinking came remorse, sorrow, loss, and anguish. I've loved men before, and subsequently had my heart stomped on, but not like this. Never like this.

A man is a human. A person. Fallible and real. A dream, though . . . A dream is the purest desire of the heart, mind, soul.

When people pass through breakups that seem more excruciating than is possible, I imagine it's the death of a dream more than the death of the relationship that makes the heart shudder, slow, and stop beating altogether. The dream of the little house with its white picket fence. The idea of a lifelong companion and lover.

I'd given up dreams of the adorable little family a few years before I lost this dream in the form of a beautiful little bookstore. Each in its own way has changed and shaped me to what I am now.

Instead of turning away from the hope of a successful love or career, these disappointment have proved to me that even more is possible. I got so close. Next time it'll be closer.

I'm the only one who can truly stop myself from dreaming and succeeding. I've never liked disappointment; even more, I hate not knowing what could have been, if I'd only been strong enough to try.

And that's why I'm packing my bags and preparing to move across the world in search of my next crazy adventure. What I find in that small cottage in the French countryside doesn't matter. What's important is that I'll find something there and know for sure, without regret.