The Journey Is More Important Than The Beginning Or The End.

Pandora's Box Has Nothing On Me
Listening to: Papercut by Linkin Park

Out of my entire life, as with so many others, my heart has received the most abuse. Not my organ, but my emotional heart.

In the years past, I let my heart fall too easily for a girl whom I knew since before kindergarten. She was my neighbor, and a close friend. At the end of that chapter, I loved her, or so I thought. Now, I know I didn't love her. Maybe my "first love", but not "my love" when it came down to it. I just cared about her a lot and loved her in a different way. She hurt me, as did my best friend. Lies hurt, especially when they come from the two people guarding your heart. Betrayal… just the same as lies. Same thing, different context really.

Before I permanently ended it with her, I met another girl. Very pretty, very sweet, and she had a heart bigger then the world. She knew how to have fun without doing wrong. She was a pastor's daughter. I got to know her while visiting my girlfriend while she was in summer school on lunch break. I would talk to her outside in the front while waiting for my girlfriend to come out. I ended up confiding in her a lot about my troubles, problems with my current girlfriend. Sara was my girlfriend at the time, and the pastor's daughter was Charity.

We were all still very young. I was in the middle of a growth spurt, and both Charity and Sara were "developing" 7th and 8th graders. Charity was the one I cried to when my best friend and Sara betrayed me. She lifted me up and actually gave me the strength to break it off with Sara. Her and I became best friends. Inseperable. Her parants loved me. Her brother thought I was crazy, but cool. Her family welcomed me anywhere. I felt like I belonged there. I came from a one parants family. I never had a father figure. I knew nothing about religion, faith, anything at all. Philosophy either, but I loved the topic. I would talk for hours with her dad. I learned so much and I for once in my life felt complete and like I found where I belonged. My heart still had that hole though. They say the person you love with all your heart becomes your best friend. I loved Charity. In every possible way I did. I loved her family too. I called her mother "mom" and everyday they expected me at the table during meal time (which explains why my 10th and 11th grade years I puffed up). If I wasn't there, they would worry about where I was. I never missed mom's home cooking.

During the 6 months we were best friends, Charity always seemed to want to kiss me. She wanted to know if there were going to be fireworks when she did, and I always refused. I never wanted anything to happen to our friendship because she made me feel complete. Then in December, while waiting for my cousins birthday party to start, her and I were in my bedroom just hanging out. Joey came in and I was in the middle of showing some magic tricks to Charity. Joey being my dimwitted brother, asked "Have you two kissed yet?" To which Charity quickly replied with "No, your stupid brother refuses to give me a kiss!" I don't know what it was, but I felt a dare there. I felt this tug of egotism just grab me and shout "IF YOU DON'T YOU'RE A WIMP!" I narrowed my eyes and did it.

The events that followed still appear in my head as memories of what seems like yesterday. Just as clear, like they were fresh. I remember every event that happened afterwards. The snow fight, Dave and I, Christmas, and talking to her every night while she was in Canada.

The rest of what happened is history and I don't care bringing it up. 2 years to long. I have this little chest that looks like an actual mini treasure chest. I have kept all the notes and letters, ticket stubs, bracelets, chap stick, amusement park maps, and anything else the represented a time, my time, with Charity. I even have the drawings she did for me when I taught her how to draw anime. That chest has remained locked and every so ofton I would catch myself staring at it.

I never opened it. I never wanted to read back into those times. It's like picking a scab. A wound on the heart. I don't know why, even 2 years later why I didn't rid my presence of those pieces of paper. I don't know why I kept them. I honestly don't.

The other night, I finally pulled the box down off the high shelf in my room. I unlocked it, and I began to read the letters inside. Some good, some bad. Notes from church between us, and notes from class. Notes we left each other in our locker, and poetry we wrote each other. Amazing how much a box of papers can hold.

As I read through the letters though, I didn't see Charity. I read it as if Molly was writing me. It was scary. The stuff said…. Here is a quote from one of the letters:

"Why aren't you writing back to me yet? I miss you :-( I really want to hear from you. Imagine what you feel when you get a letter from me. Now multiply that by 20. Every time there is mail call, I wait to hear my name, and it's never called. If you get this letter and you have sent mail to me, I'm sorry for being so harsh. But if not, please write me. I'm so lonely. I want to read that you love me. So I can go on this next week. I love you Marc. I really miss you, and no there is no guys flirting with me. (none as cute as you ^_^) Besides, we have no time with all of our activities. Well I have to go.

Love Charity Henderson Morris"

Is it bad that I think the things they say are so much a like? In another letter she wrote:

"I can't wait to come home from teaching kids, and see you come out holding a spatula, with our kids behind you as you kiss me and say 'dinner is ready'. Our little kids, they will be just as cute as their father. Your going to make a wonderful daddy. I never pictures myself having a family until I met you. You are so wonderful and I know we will be together forever."

*barriers face in palm*

It makes me scared to think everything is going to repeat itself. So much has already started to happen, just weeks into our relationship even. I am paranoid. I don't like to believe those words. I don't like lies, deceit, betrayal, and deception. I spent the night into the hours of the sunrise reading through all the letters. At the break of dawn I emptied the chest of all it's contents, and put it back on my shelf empty. Another chapter of my life will fill it. I just pray to God that this chapter doesn't end without Molly. Every night I pray that everything between Molly and I works out. I pray that she is being completely honest with me and has not done anything to break my heart. She could so easily, and get away with it. But in the end, truth will be revealed, even when you believe so much that it was impossible for someone to find out. Praying. Something I used to do a lot. Since I met Molly, I think I have lost a lot of my extreme faith. My love for her is so strong that I molded to her presence to be closer to her. I am very devious and cocky while at the same time keeping my gentle heart and personality that she loves.

The box is empty and the story is written with each breath. Never to be changed, only to remember.

Blogged by Marcus Morris at 2:51 PM