Seeing as how there seem to be xanga entries here and there ringing in the new year with self-reflection and huge realizations, I've decided to follow suit.  Hopefully this will serve as a key point of my past that my future self will be able to refer back to, and some form of a lightbulb will go off and it'll hit me: yes, Toni, you have changed, and here's how:

Firstly, Happy New Year!  2008 should be very exciting, for many reasons that are still yet surfacing as I write this.  I'm anticipating much confusion, and larger than life discoveries, closely tied to a greater understanding of myself, and the life I plan to lead and pursue.  I've done a good amount of that already, but as always, there's room for more. 

It's been 6 years, 1 month, 2 days, and 12 minutes since the first time I felt that I was in love.  I was barely over 15 years old at the time, and somehow, I was able to believe so deeply that I couldn't possibly go on without him, that my life would end with the moment he left me, that my heart would automatically stop beating the instant that he looked in my eyes and told me that he didn't love me anymore, and that he never will again.  How could I have been so sure?  How did this feeling called love overtake me so fully that I didn't think I could move forward, let alone move on, without this other person?  I didn't understand.  But I promised myself that I would get better.  I swore with all the vigor I had within me that I would not feel sorry for myself, that I would change, contain, and conquer the pain.

I was actually surprised when I did.  The day that I saw someone else, thought of another, was the day I believed my life would be starting all over again.  I'd been granted a second chance to share the gift of growing together with a new friend, a new love, a new partner.

Time went on, and where one relationship ended, another would begin again.  That's how some of life went on, outside of family, outside of friends, outside of school, or work or anything else.  As a result, I've come to carry a heavy load of memories: fond, keen, terrifying, nauseating, heartwrenching, life-altering memories.  Each and every one keeps me tied to that person, whomever he might be, and occassionally, when the opportunity presents itself, and when I have the time and energy to take it, I think about that memory, and I think about him.  I think about what life used to be when I was with him, and sometimes, I even wonder what life would be like with him now, or one day from now.

Regrettably, these thoughts of a wandering heart left me with a guilty conscience, and it wasn't until recently that I began to admit that I had these feelings floating within me.  Even until earlier today, I feared that I am unfaithful, that pondering possibilities with other people meant that I couldn't commit, that I am in fact evil-spirited, and my heart is a despicable piece of mess.

I spent a good part of this past week trying to resolve these thoughts and figure them out with my respective "others".  I feel confident in saying that most of them are settled, and I've put any unvoiced concerns or confusing matters to rest, at least on my part.  There was still one remaining today, and I was attempting to resolve the discomfort overshadowing me - though my efforts initially proved to be ineffective.  That is, until I saw "P.S. I love you".  To date, it is one of my favorite films, without question, and I advise anyone losing their sense of love and hope to watch it with an open mind.  The funny thing is, in the past, my bitter nature (though I did my best to control it, and keep it under wraps) would have compelled me to believe that the love pictured in this movie is completely outrageous and unrealistic, to say the least.  I would have told myself, "Love like that doesn't happen to people in real life.  There are no guys out there like that". 

But the truth is, there are.

I used to have divided thoughts and feelings because I didn't realize what I had, and I didn't understand who I was, or what I wanted.  To be honest, I'm still not quite sure, and I probably won't ever be, but I know now that I cannot give myself to other people, hoping that they will still be able to complete those parts of me.  That's not fair to anyone, including myself, and I am putting an end to it now.  Sometimes people have a problem with not wanting someone, but also not wanting others to have that someone.  I've been selfish, I've been disloyal, I've been wrong. 

But for some reason, as I write this, I know now that I am complete within myself.  Complete enough, at least, to know that I won't wonder what life would be like with someone else if things were different.  Because now, I am happy.  Finally, one person completes every part of me, and I no longer search for that fulfillment to come from anyone else.  Finally, one person gives me the reason to figure myself out, before I try to take care of someone else.  Finally, one person knows how to force me to accept, as well as give.  Finally, one person is my partner, my other half, my idol, my support, my motivation, my reason.  Finally, one person gives me the strength to follow my heart, and to be brave in the face of uncertainty.  Finally, one person does it all, and it's finally hit me that he is the only one I think about, feel for, daydream of, and love.  Finally, one person is all I know, and all I want to know.

Funny thing is, once you have that in your life, everything else seems to fall into place.  I've never understood myself more than I do today, and I hope to achieve my goal for this year: to be comfortable with not knowing, while still mustering up the courage to find out.