who knew guinea pigs and good intentions could make someone cry this hard.
almost three years were our embers lit
never ever quite erupting into a flame before dying completely
and it seems like you think that months of silence—
silence both agonizingly painful and indescribably freeing—
is best broken by guinea pigs and good intentions.

no.
that is not it.

for me, the silence was broken with quiet heaving sobs.
for me, the silence was broken with holding back tears on the elevator before breaking down once my door slammed.
for me, the silence was broken with cheeks stained with eyeliner and mascara.
for me, the silence was broken with tears i had never actually shed because i did not believe they existed.

they did.

it took three years to reach this point.
three years ago this week.
that was when it began.
three years later, here i am
on a different continent
as a different person
loving myself and potentially someone else
(someone who isnt you)
learning to love someone new
(someone who isnt you)
living
when suddenly
just like that
you pull me back
to three years ago
with guinea pigs
and good intentions.