I wish I could say the pain goes away. Time heals all wounds, sure, but this one needs more stitches than stars in the sky.
I wish I could say that once you make the decision to go out for the first time since you’ve lost them, it gets easier. You’d think the first time you dress up again, when you put on your tightest jeans and your highest heels and make a beeline for the back of the bar, you wouldn’t have to fake the confidence you’re projecting. But your heart is still hurting, and you just want to feel a different kind of numb for a while. It’s impossible to feel empty when tequila says everything’s fine.
The truth is, when you’ve lost them, even if it isn’t for good, you can’t get them out of your mind. They’re always with you. I promise, not a day will go by without seeing their face or hearing their voice or remembering the feeling of their smile against your forehead when they kissed you.
The truth is, you’re going to cry at least once a week because you miss them. Because you don’t know what they’re doing or how they’re doing or if they’re happy or if they miss you too. But it will only happen after midnight because the darkness is your shield. If it happens in the dark, then it never happened at all.
Even after you’ve lost them and they’re long gone, they’re going to leave a different kind of scar than the others. It won’t be the kind from a paper cut or a burn from the oven, the kind that turns pink, the kind that becomes a part of you again, the old you. This scar is branded into your chest. You can trace your fingers along the outline of this scar whenever you choose and you’ll always know who put it there.
And when you’ve lost them, you won’t know what the hell to do with yourself. You’ll go out of your mind with despair, with anger, hatred, disgust for what they’ve done to you. Because you needed them. Because who could you possibly be without them?
New. You can be someone new.