Life is a Journey
They say it's not the outcome that matters, it's the journey. I happen to firmly believe that it's true. I've made mistakes in life, done stupid things, but they've all been important things - to me, at the very least. In the end, though, it wasn't what I did that mattered. It was what happened at the very end of that chapter.
When I look back on life, I view it as a book. It's not as cut-and-dry as beginning, middle and end. There are chapters, there are parts. As a kid, growing up...that was Part One of my life. It ended when I left home, and went to college. Part Two started where I am now - alone in NYC, studying psychology, rather than law.
I don't know how many parts my life will have. Right now, I'm in the second phase, the being me phase. I do know that eventually, I'll move onto Part Three and everything will be different again. And maybe right now I'm not happy with Part Two, but that's my own fault, and we all have to live with our mistakes. I now firmly believe everything happens for a reason, and right now, that faith is all I have.
I'll always miss Part One, and I'll always miss him, but I have to hold onto the thought that I've made the right decisions for me. In the end, I'm the one that has to live with myself. Life is a journey, a story, with new pages and paths always unfolding. But there are two sides to every story, more than just my own life that I'm dictating.
Life is a journey, and right now, I'm doing it alone.
"Kyle?" He had lost the accent as he had grown, my name no longer the whining, keening, Kaaaahl, it had been in our youth. I suppose I can't even say that, we're both still young. Youth is a term that my grandparents should use, not a nineteen year old boy.
God, I feel old sometimes. It's hard to think of all the shit I went through as a little kid, and how absolutely normal my life feels now.
And normal people do normal things, like go off to college, and leave everyone behind.
I straightened my spine, worried my lower lip between my teeth. It was a nervous habit I had picked up from my dad, watching him working away in his study. "You know I love you, right?" The question came out meek, which wasn't what I had wanted. I wanted to be strong.
"Kyle?" He asked again. He could always tell when something was bothering me, even when we were in the 'hate' stage of our relationship. He shifted forward, towards me, and I took a step back. The hurt in his eyes, hurt me in my chest - near my heart. It took me a moment, but I strengthened my resolve.
I stopped biting my lip, and that was when we both knew I was absolutely, one hundred precent certain. "I'm breaking up with you."
He said nothing, choosing to instead stare at me. His eyes weren't hurt anymore, his face a carefully blank slate. He thought it kept the world out, but it only proved to me how much damage my words were actually doing.
"I got accepted to one of the schools I applied for - in New York. I'm moving, and..." I shrugged, feeling a little helpless. Almost lost. "I'm breaking up with you."
Instead of getting angry, he told me, "I could move too."
It was me that was silent then, carefully trying to guard my own expression. "Maybe I don't want you to move."
Realization dawned in his eyes. He took a step back, and it was then that we both knew. He would let me go. He wasn't going to fight me on this, no matter how much we both wanted him to.
I remember thinking in the back of my head, "Is this love? Letting someone go, so easily. Is this love?"
It took all of my will power, and a tense phone call to Kenny for me to not look back. Never look back. Never.
I didn't. Not even when I got onto the plane. I never looked back.
Part One is over, and I'm onto Part Two, but there are some things, some people, you can just never forget. He was one of them. I was always certain our paths would cross again.
I don't know whether to hate or love the fact that I'm always, always right.