The best feeling in the world is not love.

Sure, that's one of the best feelings, but nothing feels as good as the first sense of your own repair/growth. Think of the first time you can think about a person who hurt you and you feel nothing. That person's name becomes a mere name, instead of a symbol of all your regret, loss, and anger.

There have been times when an indelible voice became a distant and fuzzy recollection. If I were in a crowd and he called my name, I wouldn't be stopped in my tracks. I'd probably assume he was calling another name, another Amanda.

For Amanda is no longer me, either. It's a collection of letters my parents decided I'd go by, but six letters have never been enough to hold all this life that sits here in a red sweater pounding key after key.

The heart and mind scab over and the faintest scars are left. I'm stronger. I've outgrown just a name and so has he. We have grown and grown...apart.