I love my best friend to death.  She's been my best friend for the better part of my twenties.  And I always thought that she would some day really become family.  You see, my best friend is my brother's girlfriend, was my brother's girlfriend.  They were high school sweethearts and for as long as I remembered, she was always a part of my family.  Ten years of good times and bad times, they finally called it quits.  Well, more like, she called it quits.  I was surprised.  Surprised because for so long, she held onto their relationship; she was extremely committed to making it work, regardless of everyone else's doubt, she always stuck by him and their relationship.  The night they broke up; I assumed it was just one more of those times, where they'd argue, they'd fight, they'd take a break, and then get back together because life without each other was no life at all.

Two months after they broke up, I sensed that she was interested in someone she knew then better to be interested in: a cousin of mine.  I didn't say much; I held my breathe; I assumed she'd know better.  But she didn't.

Is it wrong of me to end our friendship?  Is it wrong of me to feel like she cheated me and our friendship?  Is it wrong of me to feel extremely betrayed?

It's been three years and somehow I can't forget about you.  The other night I was laying in bed and I yearned for your arms around me.  And then today, I called you; somehow my fingers remembered those numbers it had no longer needed to know.  You didn't pick up; you sent me to voicemail like whatever I had to say was not important enough for you to hear.  I hung up; I kicked myself for being so stupid.  You see, three years without you and I am alive; alive in some unnatural state.  I am alive but I am not myself.  I look in the mirror, I've gained a few pounds here and there; I still have those hips you use to love, the hips that you said would help bear your children.  I still have those lips you use to adore, the lips you'd be sure to kiss every morning and every night; the lips that used to say, "I love you, the most."  Three years and I finally realize that I'm stupid.  It's three years and here I am still dwelling on what was.  Three years and I'm still letting you hurt me.  I can't fall asleep because all I want to do is cry; cry for the me that you left behind, cry for the me that I left behind, cry for the me that can't let you go.  I'm drowning; I'm dying; and yet somehow I'm still alive.

So the other day, I was literally cornered by an ex-follower of Christ (which a story in itself) where she basically attacked me and told me that my way of life was "out-of-control" and that I should not be taking my friends (who are also just happen to be followers of Christ) with me to the clubs.  She then goes on to say that the clubs is not an appropriate place to find "the one."  I had to hold myself from laughing at her stupid statement.  I go to the clubs and bars because I'm a fullgrown adult who happens to have friends who enjoy spending time at places like that.

Now that I think about it though, if the clubs and/or bars are not appropriate places to find "the one" where are we suppose to find them?  And what would be consider an appropriate place?  I honestly don't think there's a right or wrong place to find the one but maybe I'm just naive.