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@missingher
Dreaming...
Those horribly vivid dreams where you're taken back to a different time and place, and everything is perfect. You double-take to check if you're dreaming and you're convinced you aren't. Your brain tricks you because it prefers being in this place. Then you awaken and reality comes crashing back.
I question it all. Did we make the right decision? Should we have stayed together? Would my life have been all the more brighter with her still in it?
The memories fade, but the pain stays the same.
I turn the TV on when I'm in another room. I like to think she's in there watching it.
The weekend
The weekend is easily the time I dread the most when being alone. I try to keep myself busy, but ultimately it's a losing battle. She used to take up so much of my time and now I find myself alone in my apartment at lot more than I'd like.
The minute my mind isn't occupied those memories manifest. A reminder of a time when I was happier. Even now, the minute I have a spare moment, I still instinctively reach for the phone out of habit. That simple action will trigger a flood of memories. Back then, I'd ring her every spare moment I had. Her calming voice would greet me, and every time I could tell she was smiling on the other end. We'd talk about anything and everything, both of us always intent on what the other had to say. I miss being able to talk to her. I miss being able to confide in her. I miss spending a whole Sunday in bed watching movies and enjoying each-other.
So as I sit here on a Saturday afternoon, with really not much to do. All I can do is think about her and what we'd be doing if we were still together. And the thing that hurts the most... is I'm sure she's thinking the same.
It's the little things...
It's the little things that get you. They sound stupid, but they cut the deepest. Unsuspecting things that come out of nowhere. Strike you down with no remorse...
Those old track-pants she used to wear when she stayed over. She'd refuse to bring her own because they were always so comfortable.
That packet of panadol she brought when you were too hungover to move from bed.
Driving past your favourite restaurant. That Japanese place on the corner... too scared to go in and order because you know the memories are too hard to face.
That one song that you'd always skip because she didn't like it. That whole album is ruined now. You can't listen to it without thinking of her.
That wine glass she loved to use. You hold on to it as if it signifies a better time when you were happy. Every time you open the cupboard, it's there.
The oval you used to jog around together. You can't even run without thinking about her now.
It's the little things that hurt the most. They hold the memories. Remind you of a time when things were better. Happier.
6 months...
6 months and no relief. That dark and empty feeling is still there. Same as it was the day we broke up. All for the best, apparently. My friends say it'll get better with time and recite the old adage "time heals all wounds". It might be true, but fucked if it makes things any better to deal with.
I saw her on the weekend. She'd been away for the past month. The longest time we'd been apart since we started dating all those years ago. We caught up for lunch and things escalated. I knew I had to resist, but I couldn't. One thing led to another, and all of a sudden its Sunday morning and we're in bed like the last 6 months had never happened. I felt happy. At peace. But I knew it wouldn't last. We reluctantly said goodbye at the tram stop, and the minute she was out of sight that darkness crept back in.
I came home and lay on my bed. I could still smell her on my sheets and pillow. Memories flooded back, clearer than ever. It's crazy how a smell can illicit such a vivid response in your brain. I knew at that point that seeing her again hadn't done either of us any favors. Hours later my phone beeped. SMS received. It was her. She told me she missed me and how hard it was leaving me.
Thoughts raced through my head. Everything feels like a dream. I'm in a daze. Nothing makes sense. Everything hurts.
It's been 6 months...
And nothing's changed.