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Every now and then I think of him.

Our projected lives. In Sweden, with children. I remember when he had looked me in the eyes and told me that he wanted to have babies with me. That I’d be a great mom. It was one of the happiest moments, ever.

I’ve been in love before but this, this was… no words can describe.

So how did I move on from the guy of my dreams? Well, none of us are perfect. And well, our combination was far from it. But of course, it’s the imperfections that make us special, and human, and oh so lovable. Or at least I am telling myself that. That it’s what I am looking for, not perfection, but the full tapestry of our history and baggage and love and the whole messy lot.

And afterwards, and so soon afterwards, I had let myself care for someone else, almost an unthinkable matter.

And now, so long afterwards, looking back and being grateful for both experiences. The fairytale, which I was so in love with, perhaps as much as the guy – so amazing in so many ways, and so not in so many others. And the unexpected surprise of someone else, so mismatched but still a union that had shown me that perhaps what I want and what I need may not be the same.

I think of this at times, when I’m happy, and hope that they too are happy because I loved them, and want the best for them. And I know that I am not that now, or perhaps ever.

But there were moments when I was, and we were, and it was marvelous and wonderful. And regardless of the end, there was a purity in those moments.

Posted in Everything else.

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