I am beginning.

The last boy who saw me thought I was love and light but instead of admiring it, broke it. Broke me. I cried for days. Stared numbly at my phone waiting for a call that never came. It will never come still. Because i am, still. Waiting. He broke me so easily, no effort required.

Maybe it is a sign. Maybe he was nothing more than a sign. Not the love I dreamed of, no, but a sign. A push in the direction of growth. To build such a strong love and light within me that it cannot be shattered so easily by a boy ever again.

The irony being that this is what will have him come knocking.