When I wake, the onion layers have moved back into place. I am lonely again. You are gone. The last remnant of your involvement in my life can only be found in my bed, and in the few items that you have left behind to pick up at some yet undesignated date.
Part of my job includes taking care of chickens.
I will not wait for you to let it sink in. To let in teem and flood your mind that it was a mistake to let me go so easily. To let it melt your heart until you realize that you are empty without me.
You remember giving them a list of reasons for why it would not work, and how they should find someone else. You remember giving them the reasons why they should just walk away. But they did not go anywhere, they told you that they don’t want anyone else and they refused to let go.
We’ve all done it — developing a relationship with someone who we know is never going to commit, and yet we give everything to play the role of the perfect significant other. The one who is so good they just have to settle down. In return, all we get is nothing.
It’s over. Us. We. It’s back to you, and me, separate entities.
Just because you weren’t owed anything doesn’t mean there weren’t expectations.
Familiarity’s the culprit. We know each other inside and out, the bad and the ugly and the terrible — and this familiarity is already too much for our hearts to handle most of the time.
I’ll remember you like a good old Beatles song, serene and classic. Simple yet enlightening. Real and meaningful. Faded but beautiful.
The agony isn’t from the relationship; it’s from the journey after the relationship. The process of returning to yourself, whoever that may be at the moment. The path of rediscovering life as you used to know it.