It happened again today. I had a fluttering thought about being with the man I love. I had an irrational daydream about holding hands and sharing kisses. This isn’t an abnormal thought, but today it felt different. It infiltrated me like an army squad reaching their target. It overtook me; all the progress I made getting over you seemed to have finished, and here I was, raw and fresh, begging for you. It will not stay this way, though—I will overcome this feeling and be centred once more. So, I take a deep breath, a long gulp of wine, wipe my tears, and straighten my skirt, because I will be okay after you.
Some days are harder than others. Some stuff unmistakably screams your name, and some moments need to be commemorated and acknowledged that they lack your presence. Our anniversary hasn’t been forgotten, the first day we said I love you is upon us, the day you held my hand and said you needed me will always be there. The only thing that has changed in the memoir of us is that you are not there to remember them with me. You have forgotten the moments, the memories, and the promises—I know this. That is a hard part, the part that breaks the heart of those that think about it. We are both living the life we meant to live together apart. Even typing that feels strange and foreign. It feels wrong, but it is the reality of us now.
On the easy days, you’re still there, but the pain feels less intense. The reason heartbreak hurts so much is that it has so many layers it may as well be a crepe cake. On these days, the memories are less vivid and the connections are harder to make. Even these days have their downfalls, though. These days are the ones that I reflect on and feel guilty for letting my mind forget you. We have such a long history and a beautiful story—how could I forget that it happened? How do I push this fantastic love story that I adore into the back of my mind? It’s a complex thing, loving someone who doesn’t love you anymore. It involves days of joy, movement, and guilt, then days of memories, sadness, and peace. This is my battle, and I face it with the confidence that I will overcome it.
I know this because I find victories in the small stuff. In the days that I don’t dream or think about you, in the days I drive past your house and don’t think about stopping. The days that I can remind myself how okay and amazing I will be without you. This does not mean the missing and hurt is gone, it simply proves that I am stronger than I was. I used to let the missing you over take me. I would find ways to reach out, make excuses to remind you I was here. Now I know that you need your space. I believe that if I’m supposed to be with you, we’ll work it out. I also believe that if we are not, I will be okay.
That’s the funny thing about me—I will always find a way to be okay.