When Moving On Seems All Too Difficult

Woman with baby's breath flowers in her hair looking at a field
Larm Rmah / Unsplash

I am never a morning person. I hate waking up at 5 am to get ready for school. But I love staying up until 5 am just to see the sunrise. I’ve always loved the darkness, how it gives unusual comforting feeling when you stare into the nothingness. But I also loved the broad daylight. How the rays of the sun meet your eyes, how it easily brightens up my day, how it means a brand new day.

But now, I find it so hard to wake up even at eleven o’clock in the morning. Sometimes I wonder how my bed thinks of me when I finally decide to go out of my room. I wonder if my pillow could finally tell me that it’s drowning for all the tears that soaked in it every night. I wonder if it wants me to expose it in sunlight for it to dry. There are nights I feel sorry for them. For making them a cushion of comfort by infusing them my misery just to make me feel better. I feel sorry for all the songs I kept playing and playing over and over again because music has a better way of putting what I feel into a song.

When people ask me how I am, I tell them I am okay. Not because I am but because that’s what they want to hear and I am so sick of explaining myself to others. I am so tired of telling how it felt last night, how it was different from the other night and the night he decided to cut it off. So I tell myself I am okay so I won’t blurt out how still it hurts. So that I won’t cry over about it again. So that I won’t remember.

But when I say I am okay, I never meant I don’t think about you anymore. It doesn’t mean I no longer check on your social media accounts just so I know what you are up to. It doesn’t mean I don’t reminisce. Because the truth is, I remember you all the time. When I see cars, when I smell cigarettes, when people start talking about on how they drive, when I stand behind a couple in an escalator, when I eat, when I play a song, when I’m alone. I remember you all the time and when I do, I just shut my mouth and keep it in myself because it sounded better in silence.

I don’t know if how long this will last. Maybe when I no longer taste your name on my mouth. Maybe when I smelled thousands of scents just to forget yours. Or when I learn to drive on my own. Perhaps it’s okay to say I’m okay even when I’m not, maybe it’s my way to be equipped with the pain. Denying how it still hurt until you get used to it. They say sometimes we hurt the people we love. Maybe they loved us a lot. Maybe you just loved me too much.

I would lie if I say I don’t miss you. And maybe I still hope that you’ll crawl back to my arms and tell me how much you miss home. I don’t know if I was ever your home. And I think I don’t want to know. But I want to know if you think about me the same way I do. If sometimes you regret the things you did. If you regret leaving me. I guess I’ll never know.

And even people say that I should forget about you, I just couldn’t. How could you forget someone who made loving unforgettable? How it scares you to love again or excites you to meet the right person? Tell me how could you just get back up as if it didn’t crush you when they left, as if they offered you a hand to stand up again? How is it easy for them to tell you to get over it when you are lost in the middle of nowhere and he took the map when he left? How is it so easy for them to tell you that he didn’t matter when loving him was the last thing you felt good at? Tell me, how is it so easy to unlove someone just like that? Because even if you give me a book full of answers, I will never understand how it’s easy to say goodbye to the things you want to keep forever.

So, to you, love, who feels the same, don’t listen to what people say. Not just because it worked for them it doesn’t mean it’ll work for you to. Discover your own process. Cry over and over again. Reminisce. Get hurt. Do that thing that scares you most. Because if not because of the hurt, we will never learn. We will never be the person we are today. Do it your own way. Take your time. This is not the battle who gets over first.

I hope you know someday, we’ll be okay and it won’t resound the ache in your heart anymore. Someday, we’ll say we’re okay and mean it. But for now, equipped yourself with “I’m okay” until you don’t need to. We’ll never know until when but when we do, it’ll sound like a beautiful harmony that we’ll forget how silence sounds like. Someday, you’ll find a reason to be happy again. It doesn’t have to be now or tomorrow or the day after it. Maybe when the grass is much greener on the other side of the fence you used to walk on, or when you no longer use being sick as an excuse for being sad. Perhaps when you started walking back on the memory lane and you’ll just smile on how it happened but you’ll no longer feel how it felt like on that exact moment.

There’s no need to rush. This isn’t a race. You have to work your way back up. Slowly. And someday, it’ll feel good to finally enjoy the sweetness in your morning cup of coffee. It’ll be wonderful to wake up at seven am in the morning. It’ll be exciting to think of the endless possibilities of meeting new people and venturing the world.

Someday love, someday. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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