I promised once, a dear friend of mine that I would love with everything I have. To pour all my heart into the person I choose to love. To sacrifice everything I can to make him happy.
My dear friend warned me that not everyone will understand, that I'll be left feeling lonely most of the time. After all finding love isn't easy. We knew I'd get hurt, that I'd stumble multiple times along the way. We knew I'd get my heart broken. But we believed I was stronger than anyone else gave me credit for, that I'd take the criticism; that I'd take the broken pieces and put it together again, that I'll become stronger, try a lot more harder, love that much longer.
We knew because we've seen and felt the kind of love that changes people. The kind that inspires others to be kinder, gentler. The kind that is selfish but also gives and gives and gives. The kind that grabs on to you no matter how long ago it was.
My dear friend passed away and left me a promise that I'd find it again someday, as long as I continue believing, continue loving the way we once felt loved before.
I'm still keeping my promise.
It gets lonely, it hurts each time I fail. But we were right, it changes people. And now I'm not the only one who understands our kind of love anymore.
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