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I think I've forgiven Amanda.

I think.

She broke my heart. I've never had that happen before, or after, and I think it's fair that I'm not quite understanding about the entire situation.

It was about a year and a half ago, two days before Valentine's day. We had been in a long-distance relationship for quite some time, and I hadn't seen her in about two months when she told me it was over. Just like that. No clich├ęs, no sappy romance lines, just a severed bond. I hope it was easy for her.

I had trusted her, confided in her, gave myself to her in every way that I could. I told her secrets I had never before voiced, I shared my innermost fears, desires, secret thoughts. And when she had heard all there was to hear, and taken the full measure of who I was, she decided that I wasn't someone she could trust. And so it ended.

We didn't talk for almost a year. Then we started exchanging emails tentatively, and sometime last month we actually spoke on the phone again, the first time since. In that time, I've found love again. Her name is Jessica, we've been together for seven months, and everything is wonderful. We're happy. Very.

Amanda is coming to town soon. Three weeks. I'll most likely see her, have coffee with her, laugh and chat with her. With the woman I love at my side.

As long as we walk away friends, she's forgiven. As long as we can be social, be together, and be comfortable.

As long as she doesn't give me that look, that smile that could break my heart all over again. I don't love her anymore, the girl named Amanda... But I don't want to be reminded of what we once had.

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