I kept walking, I did not look back even though I really wanted to, I kept walking away. I knew my words had stabbed his heart. The thought of his bleeding heart and the picture of his teary eyes refused to leave my mind. I loved him, yet I didn't want him in my life.

His rugged lifestyle and my cooperate lifestyle where just two parallel lines I felt won't meet. My mother did not like him, and my contemporary-lifestyle Dad thought he was not responsible. But was he really not responsible?
I remembered the many times he paid attention to my deepest despair. I remembered how he would bring me a box of chocolate every Friday at lunch. I remembered his soothing words, always positive! encouraging me to forge ahead in my goals and endure the pain of life no matter what it takes. He'll say, "no pain, no gain". Gossh! I loved him, I love him still.
Why did I break up with him? Why did I allow my parents words to influence the way I felt about him? Why did I just call him up and break his heart without a clue? I couldn't bear the pain anymore than he could. I wouldn't do it.
I immediately changed my mind. I discarded every piece of reason that have been downloaded into my head by my parents.Its my life not theirs, I couldn't live without Mark. I ran back to him, to where he stood, still grief stricken, pale and obviously shocked at my returning. I hugged him, I told him I loved him, I told him didn't want to leave him, I told I changed my mind.
He held me close and whispered into my ears, " sorry dear my mind's changed too".

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