I don’t know how or when it happens but it does, one morning you wake up and you don’t look at your phone waiting for a text or a call. You make plans without considering whether he’ll like it or not and you finally tell everyone you no longer think about him.
It feels like getting your memory back long after you’ve lost it. You slowly begin to remember what it feels like to live lightly without the heavy weight on your shoulders or your heart. You remember what it feels like to laugh uncontrollably with your friends; laughter that’s not followed by a tinge of sadness. You remember what it feels like to actually talk to and see other people without missing him. You remember that your life was waiting for you and you chose to get locked away from it all.
It feels like the first day you got your car, when all you wanted to do was take it and drive everywhere, listen to your favorite songs and pick up your friends. You are ready to take yourself and go everywhere to make up for the times when you couldn’t even hit the brakes. You gladly enjoy the ride and the road and dance in your car. You want to smile at strangers, go to your favorite restaurants and shop at all your favorite stores. You finally recall your love for driving after being stuck on a dead-end road.
It feels like finishing a book you were reading, you took your notes, learned the lessons and understood the main message behind the book. Now it’s time to find a new book to read. It’s time to find new chapters and new pages to turn, time to find new lessons and new notes to take. It’s time to find different endings to the same old stories.
It feels like the pieces of you are coming back together again, you look at his pictures and it no longer hurts, you hear his name and it no longer matters, you pass by his apartment and it no longer makes you feel empty, you go to his favorite bar and he no longer crosses your mind, you see him and you can finally think of him as part of your past – not your present or your future.
Maybe some stories are meant to end this way – without closures, without explanations, without answers. Maybe some stories are meant to be left alone, maybe some stories are not meant to be revisited. Maybe some things are meant to be chaotic and scattered and not meant to be restored. Maybe some memories are meant to be forgotten and washed away, maybe we are meant to drown before we can truly learn how to swim.