It has been ten months since you broke up. You do not remember the date or the time. But you still remember what it felt like to be ripped apart. You were not ripped apart into pieces—because you were still whole when he left your arms for the last time. You were still whole when you cried to sleep that night, and the next night, and for weeks after the first. You were never not whole. But you remember being ripped apart, or at least how it felt when he said that he could not do it anymore.
You remember being powerless against the hurt—how it twisted, tugged and pulled until you were raw. Since that night, you existed with the sole purpose of putting everything back together. Even when you were physically whole, you were broken.
It has been ten months since you broke up. And someone has finally filled up the empty space where your past used to be. Your new guy is a doctor and he is everything you wish he could be. Ironically enough, his specialty is the heart which is accurate because he did heal your heart. Remember when your friends teased you for falling for someone who is way below your league? He has nothing on this new one.
Then you saw it. A photo of him smiling at another girl. They were happy—or at least they looked like it. And there it is again, the barely-healed stitches on the old rips unfastening one damn suture at a time…until you are open once more. But because this is the second time, you know that it will take longer to heal. Thank heavens you know a doctor. But while your past has nothing on the new guy, you know the former still has something on you. The rip stretches out. You wonder if you will remain whole this time.
It has been ten months since you broke up. You are successful. In a crowded room, you are the sun but in the same space, you see him. Your breath hitches. Your heart does a double-take. It is not him—just some tall stranger with a beard. You sigh. You hear the distinct sound of a new rip taking place.
It has been ten months since you broke up. You wonder if it will ever get better. You wonder if the scars and open empty spaces that he left when he ripped you apart will ever be mended. You wonder if it ever stops hurting. You wonder if every white pick-up truck, every fucking Yellow Cab, every sight of a bearded man will hurt as before. But then, ten months have passed yet the memories still hurt so why even bother asking? It has been ten months since you broke up. You hear the rip even before it happens.