Oct 2017
here’s the thing with moving on. it creeps in, slowly.
when I was first broken up with, the pain felt unreal. the thoughts of being forever unrepairable plagues your mind, and suddenly the world is a lot darker without them. more dark than a solar eclipse, their absence leaves you in pitch black loneliness.
but there are stages to moving forward, and each person experiences them differently. but you can always guarantee that although the one you miss is constantly on your mind, the thought will eventually start to dim. like a trying lightbulb, it will attempt its last ignition alive and fail. it will dim out without your knowledge, and your heart will eventually be okay with it.
like I said the process creeps in slowly. one minute you’ve forgotten about their beautiful smile and perfect hands and the next you’re remembering the goosebumps that arose when he touched you. you’re reliving an experience you’ve held dear to your heart, and to no avail, nothing changes. you’re both on opposite sides of the universe, strung up in old feelings like ***** laundry, but are somehow airing each other out. looking forward.
sometimes you’ll look back, but you’ll never allow your shoulders to follow. you’ll never be able to do that to yourself now because you know the second you do, everything comes back, right?
i’ve allowed to let my shoulders turn but only come back as a walking ghost. its a distance I respect, love and hate all at once. I love it because sometimes I still get to hear the laughter. I get too watch how careful his hands are when he pours his drink, or hands me the remote. its a torturous feeling of bliss, wonder and nostalgia. I hate it for this, too, because when you see those delicate hands, you wonder what they would feel like on you again. you wonder if they wonder, and that’s the end of it all.
when you wonder, you wander. I go into this reality of what has been, and what could of been. It’s an escape from what is and, for just a while, I can ease the initial pain and remember what it was like to have your lips against my skin, touching everywhere and healing everything. Sometimes that’s all you need- not the person, but the feelings they arose in you.
that's what hurts about love; it will always move faster than time and somehow allow us to remain completely still, unchanged, unwillingly hinged together by a thread.
so that’s really the question: are you pushing forward? Are you meeting someone new? Does she smile at you like I used to?
I beg you don’t forget. please don’t forget about me.
- moving on
when I was first broken up with, the pain felt unreal. the thoughts of being forever unrepairable plagues your mind, and suddenly the world is a lot darker without them. more dark than a solar eclipse, their absence leaves you in pitch black loneliness.
but there are stages to moving forward, and each person experiences them differently. but you can always guarantee that although the one you miss is constantly on your mind, the thought will eventually start to dim. like a trying lightbulb, it will attempt its last ignition alive and fail. it will dim out without your knowledge, and your heart will eventually be okay with it.
like I said the process creeps in slowly. one minute you’ve forgotten about their beautiful smile and perfect hands and the next you’re remembering the goosebumps that arose when he touched you. you’re reliving an experience you’ve held dear to your heart, and to no avail, nothing changes. you’re both on opposite sides of the universe, strung up in old feelings like ***** laundry, but are somehow airing each other out. looking forward.
sometimes you’ll look back, but you’ll never allow your shoulders to follow. you’ll never be able to do that to yourself now because you know the second you do, everything comes back, right?
i’ve allowed to let my shoulders turn but only come back as a walking ghost. its a distance I respect, love and hate all at once. I love it because sometimes I still get to hear the laughter. I get too watch how careful his hands are when he pours his drink, or hands me the remote. its a torturous feeling of bliss, wonder and nostalgia. I hate it for this, too, because when you see those delicate hands, you wonder what they would feel like on you again. you wonder if they wonder, and that’s the end of it all.
when you wonder, you wander. I go into this reality of what has been, and what could of been. It’s an escape from what is and, for just a while, I can ease the initial pain and remember what it was like to have your lips against my skin, touching everywhere and healing everything. Sometimes that’s all you need- not the person, but the feelings they arose in you.
that's what hurts about love; it will always move faster than time and somehow allow us to remain completely still, unchanged, unwillingly hinged together by a thread.
so that’s really the question: are you pushing forward? Are you meeting someone new? Does she smile at you like I used to?
I beg you don’t forget. please don’t forget about me.
- moving on
