I went to St. Francis Church in the city to hear Mass this afternoon. After the service I went to Our Lady's chapel to pray. And then I saw a group of Asian teenage girls who were also there praying. I noticed that one of them looks like her -- the object of my affection in highschool. It's been long years now but her memory is still haunting me...(or perhaps entertaining me).
She gave me the greatest happiness as well as the sadness during my highschool life. Looking back, I realised that though it sometimes felt like a wound in my heart, but it didn't matter, because I loved her anyway. Mine was a disordered love because she didn't love me in return.
I discovered in my young life that love wounds us and the wound does not simply disappear. It forms a scar and such scars are lasting signs that can hurt again, but they allow us to go on living a humanly fulfilled life that may be all the more mature because of suffering. So I thank her and am still praying for her, inspite of everything I became a better person and forever be indebted to her for teaching me how to love.
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