Redemption. That is what I was looking for. It took a while for me realize it. It took time to accept that I was capable of hoping for something more. But the thing that took the longest time was accepting that I deserved better.

The things that we do each day turn into habits. What we eat, how we think, how we dress. They are all habits. We may be human, but we’re not all that different from Pavlov’s dog. Ring the bell and we come running to eat.

I was no different, aside from having convinced myself that I was responsible for all of the bad things that had happened and that I deserved it. Actually that is not all that different from a lot of people. We all feel alienated. From time to time we all feel like losers who don’t fit in.

Don’t I sound like the motivational speaker.

But I am not that guy. I don’t buy into that crap. Maybe it is because of my own provincial mindset, or maybe it is because I see too many of those charlatans robbing people. But then again if you refuse to think for yourself you set yourself up for disaster.

That has never been my problem. I know my what my problems are. I know my weakness. All I can do is try to avoid making the mistakes of the past. Let them stay where they belong. Let them haunt my soul and serve as a warning, whatever. Just let them be far away from my conscious mind.

I can’t tell you when the change took place. I can’t tell you why or how. I just know that when hope returned I lost some of my edge. I no longer constantly felt angry, frustrated and edgy, but not always angry.

Little things that used to throw me into a rage stopped infuriating me. And it was all because of hope.

Once I began to believe in myself I started to dream about getting her back. I allowed myself to remember the joy she used to fill me with and considered the possibility of having it again.

We had promised each other that we would never let go. We said that if we held onto each other we could beat whatever had come between, in front or behind us. Somewhere in time there still lived a boy and girl who believed in that.

The girl I had loved was a hopeless romantic with such sweet lips. Men don’t normally say things like this, but I loved kissing her. I didn’t view it as a necessary step to get into her pants. I really loved it.

Somewhere in time there lived a boy and a girl who would do all in their power to find their way back to each other. I really believed it and I had to believe that she believed it.

The bigger question was not whether she did, but where she was. We had lost touch. It had become far too painful and I had let her slip away. I didn’t know if she was married. Couldn’t tell you if she had kids.

All I could tell you was that I knew she was alive. As stupid as it sounds the heart that had been broken just sensed that she was somewhere.

It was a start, a beginning that I could work with. I didn’t know what would happen or how. I just knew that redemption was possible.

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