"There's a difference between loving the idea of someone and actually love who they really are." — Elizabeth Burke

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved someone so deeply, so uniquely, she would have done anything for him. She loved him for who he actually was, despite their differences. She loved him not quite like a friend or like a soulmate; it was a love that encapsulated all the trust and admiration, all the dependence and smiles of a friendship but on a deeper level than two friends who hang out at the mall on Saturdays and pass by in the halls during the week could ever achieve.

They were never "in-love," according to the definition of some. But they knew each had a special love for the other - to always defend the other, to always be there for the other, to do anything for the other. It was something so new, so exciting - this kind of love, this kind of friendship. She had never been so dedicated to someone who wasn't her family before. He knew everything; he protected everything. They would continue their journeys together, from one school to the next, leaving the past behind. It was going to be the greatest four years of her life, getting to have someone by her side who begged her to be by his, who would never leave her, who would continue to be there through all the good and all the bad times.

Until he wasn't there any longer; until he abandoned her where she was most scared, where she needed her best friend more than she could have ever imagined. She needed the heart of gold she had defended and protected for three years, not the shunning boy who would cloud her vision for the next four. She yearned for the best friend she had loved, loved for who she thought he actually was.

But he never came back. And she was more alone than she had been in her entire life. The only thing she could feel anymore was regret — regret she had done something wrong, regret she had followed him instead of those that did love her, regret she had let herself be heartbroken over someone who had never loved her.

As the years went by, the girl wondered what life would have been like if she had left before her heart could have been broken. But, she also wondered what life would have been like if he was still in it. Or, at least, if she had gotten closure. But he had left, without so much as a reason. He had left a trail of rumors in his wake, none of the overwhelming trust and honesty that had once pumped her heart full of light. And, suddenly, that desire for answers trumped all.

She missed him; she wanted him back in her life. Despite what he did, she was convinced she would be happier. But, boy, it took this lonely girl a long time to grow up and realize that she did not still love him; she just loved the idea of him in her life.

He abandoned her, he left her alone and afraid despite the strong friendship he had publicly expressed. She was too smart to want him back in her life, now that she knew what kind of person he actually was. But there was no denying she loved the idea of him. She loved all the great memories they had together; she loved the trust that had consumed her (a trust she had not been able to find in a long time); she loved the idea of him in her life, there was no denying it.

It took many years for her to move on, for her to give up the idea they could one day be what they once were.

Once upon another time, though, the girl was free of the strings that once trapped and pulled on her heart. And she realized she had to let him go — she no longer loved him; she was not even sure if she loved the idea of him any longer.

The girl wished nothing but the best for him and his life, but she was done hanging on to a love, an idea, that had crumbled under the ashes of deceit a long time ago.

That girl was me.