The Conditions of Will

by Jessa Hastings

The idea that it ends—that it all ends—that everything you spend your life doing and building toward one day amounts to actually nothing the second you take your last breath.

You can tell yourself you don’t even really want to be wanted by people like them anyway, but it isn’t true because the same way parents are supposed to want their kids, kids have a genetic predisposition to want to be wanted by them.

It’s a funny part of growing up, actually… Accepting that things that are better for you, healthier—they can still be painful.

You survive whatever you need to, however you can.

For many years, the idea of someone riding in on a white horse, defending and reclaiming my honor, was how I envisioned my redemption story playing out. The music would swell in the soundtrack of my mind and years of pain would fall off me like scales and I would be different because my savior made me feel clean again; but life, it seems, and hearts as well, are not that simple.

“Are you up for a bit of a drive?” “With you?” He blinks a couple of times, then smiles. “Yeah, I’ll take the long road.”

“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” I stare up at the big arch, which is my favorite part, I think. “Even though it’s broken?” “Yep,” he says quietly, and he’s looking just at me.