Things are better…
but not the same.
The wounds he left me with are still crippling.
And I feel them worsen each time I draw a breath.
The pain still comes and goes and with each passing moment I know its still there.
The hurt.
The frustration.
The knowing that everything wasn’t ok in the end.
The understanding that the love and admiration hasn’t gone away.
And with every chance I get I use up the memory and drink it down into my soul hoping that it would numb some of the feelings.
Sort of like that favorite medicine.
Were you weren’t happy to take but it sort of tasted good.
And you know what maybe I like the pain.
Maybe I like punching a wall 10 times and still wanting more.
Maybe I like the constant reminders that bring me to tears.
Because feeling that…
is better than feeling nothing about him at all.
Things are better…but not the same.