I'd known since I was seventeen years old that we would end up together. We'd dated briefly around that time, while I was still in high school and John, three years older, still wasn't quite sure what to do with his life. I can even pinpoint the exact moment I realized we were meant to be together.

It wasn't as if that was the moment I fell in love, it was like that was the moment love flooded over and fell into me. We were at his house, and I was waiting for him as he ran upstairs to grab something for his mother. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and as I watched him descend, something happened that was like nothing I've ever felt before or since. This feeling, this wave of emotion, seemed to descend with him, and it literally felt as though it dropped into me, sinking from the top of my head down through my feet and into the floor below. I felt weak, heavy and overcome, and if he hadn't stopped to hug me as he walked by, I may have just collapsed on the spot. Right then I knew- we were meant to be together.

Only a few months later, though, we broke up. There was too much going on and too much drama in each of our lives. I was trying to plan college, and he was trying to get too many other things in his life figured out. We ended on decent terms, and with the agreement that we'd keep in touch, which was harder than it seemed to sound at the time.

For five years life went on, with us occasionally talking and meeting up. We dated other people, and there were times I wanted to hate him, because with all my heart I believed we were meant for each other and yet we weren't together. The other relationships I had were all short-lived, haunted by my seemingly irrational belief that I was meant to be with John.

One day in April or May, 2005, we were talking and John asked me to go to the wedding with him, one of his friends. I agreed, but knowing we'd done things together before, I didn't even think much of it. Maybe what I felt was irrational, and I'd only be hurt, but I still liked to spend time with him.

After the reception he asked me if we could try again. I said that we could, but honestly, I didn't even know how to take that. I didn't know what it meant, and I was afraid to read too much into it. A week later I decided I had to know, and I went over to his house where we sat out in the back yard talking until it got dark and his sister came out with a flashlight. I felt spotlight interrogated as she shined the

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