No matter how long it's been, you always remember.  Someone talks about a movie, or you go to a particular restaurant, you hear a song.  There will always be reminders, no matter how long someone has been gone from your life.  It's been right around 6 years and I still remember Andy putting his number in my phone with the name "love of my life."  I also remember the night he put his hands around my throat in anger.  It's been 2 years since David came up to me to get the dance I asked for at his sister's wedding.  But I also remember his call, telling me he didn't really love me.  It's been a year since my first date with Mike, where we got excited about the things we had in common, even if it was as simple as drinks that we both liked.  Remembering his words, that I created the monster he became in our dysfunctional relationship, still hurts me now.

But I will never stop believing in love.

Last week I finished a paper on love for my intro to theology class, a topic I picked to understand something I knew all along.  I've loved, basically my entire life, with the agape I wrote about, unselfish, benevolent love with no strings.  Most of the time it gets me in trouble; people probably think it's naive but I'm pretty sure I'm better off for it.  I might cry (more than the average person!) and get upset for a while, spending time by myself, letting myself listen to all the songs I shouldn't.  But I never, ever regret a second of time I spend with another person in which I gave them everything I could.  I've been given a gift.  And closing myself off and keeping myself from the potential to have something great is like keeping that gift locked away.  Yes, things have turned out difficult and hard, and yes, I still get upset or sad when I think about time I spent with people, but that pain is nothing compared to how great it feels when you truly care for another person.  It's the risk you take.  And I'm going to keep on taking it.