Perhaps I’m not over you.
I would like to think that I am. If there is a post-breakup checklist, I’m quite sure that I have done them all. I allowed myself the freedom to cry the first few days. I tried to pull myself into the concrete reality despite feeling the surreal disbelief that we had officially ended. I removed the remainder of your presence and anything that could have triggered memories of you. I was resolute to move on from you, or so I was.
I worked so hard on loving myself, but it seemed like you could undo all my hard work when I caught a glimpse of you. You still looked the same, but then again, nothing is the same. We are strangers now, with an ocean of regret and broken dreams standing between us, and the knowledge made my heart felt even emptier.
I felt like a shadow of my former self, and I couldn’t stand how shattered I was in the aftermath. I just wanted to get better, and it seemed like the dark tunnel stretched forever. A glimmer of hope taunted me in the distance, but I could not reach it. My broken heart reminded me how I wasn’t fully whole despite my best effort.
Since we ended, I associated time with how long it had been since I last saw you, talked to you, and held you. I lost the concept of time because, in a life devoid of you, every day consisted of me merely existing and going through the motions without truly living. Despite the countless sunrises and sunsets I witnessed without you, the endless nights that left me tormented with fervent nightmares and a heavy heart, and the blank days that passed in a blur, I felt as if I was frozen in time. Reality felt like a cruel nightmare that separated us, and I longed to wake up to a world where we were happily in love before real life ruined us.
I guess the most heartbreaking part was convincing myself that you never loved me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how our years ended just like that. That I could never have another moment with you again. I couldn’t comprehend how you could suddenly stop loving me and wondering if you had truly loved me.
But I know I had to accept that there was nothing I could do to salvage us. For while I was more than willing to brave the raging fire to save the wreckage of our relationship, you would have stayed immobile and unmoved as I burned in agony. While I knew I wanted to fight for our relationship with full certainty, you were unsure about us and wanted a way out.
On better days, I could pretend that I was okay. I had my loved ones who cared for me deeply and a life that I was generally content with. I like to think I have moved on, and maybe in some way I have. But on other days, I still wake up dreaming about you. I still wish that you were here with me. I still miss us. And maybe that’s okay too. Healing takes time, and I’m learning that it’s okay to miss you.