You can still feel his touch when you close your eyes. It was dry and coarse but it warmed you. You yearn for the comfort that came with the feeling of his fingertips running down your back.
You want to feel his hand pressed against yours one more time, if only to ensure it feels exactly the way you remember it. You want to see if he’d still instinctively interlace his fingers with yours, like he used to.
You want to feel the way you used to. You want to feel that safe again.
You miss the way his eyes drank you in and how when they widened they silently spoke a promise to never hurt you.
Remembering a time before you’d ever been hurt is comforting, because things were easier then. It was a time before you realized you were capable of falling for someone, hard. It was a time when you were still willing to do so.
You were less vulnerable then because you didn’t know what it would feel like to lose him. You don’t miss him. You miss the security that comes with being in a loving relationship. You especially miss it now that you’re looking at the broken pieces of what once was.
Sometimes you still can’t believe a love you assumed would always be there is gone. You became accustomed to it, and even took that love for granted. You made demands, because you knew he’d meet them.
He wouldn’t meet them for you anymore. If you really needed something, you might call, but you’re not sure he’d answer.
Now your soft gaze hardens when guys approach you. You’re less quick to trust them and more likely step back than lean forward. You consider whether someone new would be worth the risk. Your first thought after a first date is how much breaking up will hurt and you wonder if it’s even worth putting yourself through the whole ordeal.
It’s hard when people slip away from you. You go from talking to him everyday, to once every couple of months, to only texting him on his birthday. And then you stop reaching out to him altogether.
And that’s when you’ve lost that last bit of reassurance: Your last guarantee was that he’d still remember your birthday, or call once and a while, but he doesn’t anymore.
And then you just feel vulnerable and long for a time when you didn’t. You’ve lost the safety net of his love. You’ve forgotten what his voice sounds like, but it’s not sad because you are actually interested in the sound of his voice. It kills you because you miss the words that spilled from his mouth to soothe you.
Playing with past memories is a dangerous game. To sit and let an old feeling envelop you is to leave you feeling empty the moment you open your eyes.
Your past had security but living in the memories of it means you’re not doing anything to change your present. All it means is that you’re making it harder to forget about, because you’re too busy holding on. When we’re not forgetting little details, it’s because we don’t want to. It scares us too much.
Craving security is natural but reliving moments that brought you security isn’t making you less vulnerable, it’s just opening wounds that are finally, almost healing.
Why keep picking at the wound when the skin’s finally growing back? Put a bandage on. You’re scared of letting it heal fully because once it does, it will be gone and that’s too much to handle. But either way, it will still leave a scar.
Let it be a scar that makes you stronger. Let it be a sign that you have vulnerabilities and can keep moving forward in spite of them. Baggage happens. And while it’s tempting to imagine a world in which you have your old love building you up, dwelling on that feeling can’t help you.