Some days are better than others. They’re still there, in your mind though. It’s like being at a concert and having someone standing in front of you blocking your view of the stage. You keep trying to look around them, past them, to see the stage but they keep jumping right in front of you again directly in your eyesight.
On the good days, you welcome this battle and you don’t give up. You keep trying to look past them and you start catching glimpses of what’s beyond. You’re happy. Your friends make you laugh. You’re having fun. You’re excited for the future (specifically, a future without them). You have a date. You’re excited to go on a date with someone you’re not in love with. You have those first date jitters. You’re motivated at work. You have free time. You see them for the great person they are and are genuinely excited for the day when you can just be friends; to hang out without any romantic expectations, but simply to bask in the positive energy they bring to your life. You’re so happy and excited about this revelation you almost call them just to say, “Hey! I’m not sad anymore. You’re a cool person, let’s be friends.”
You refrain from this as, logically, you know it’s too soon. Also, you haven’t seen them in person since they left and you’re unsure of what that might do to your mental state. Still, you feel so good. You feel positive, like things are actually getting better. You’re moving on, this is moving on. You go to bed, thinking happy thoughts and praying tomorrow feels this good.
It doesn’t. You wake up missing them. They’re there in your mind still, blocking your view, but you’re too tired to fight to see past them. Instead, you look right at them. You see them laying next to you in your bed. Their face; their messy bed hair; their arm draped across your body, their fingers lightly touching your back. They’re looking at you, into your eyes, with love. So much love. You can feel it, and you love that look on their face, in their eyes. You tell them you love them and you don’t even care how they respond in this moment because you feel so much love, they just need to know. They say it back, and that’s where you stop the memory dead in its tracks. It’s too painful to go on. It creates this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach, this urgency for it to be real again and not just a memory. You know it never will be. Instead you continue to lay in bed just a little longer and wonder what they’re doing. Are they laying in bed too? Are they thinking about you? Remembering? Do they feel anything at all?
You wish you could stay in that moment, in bed with them, forever. Instead, you get out of bed. He stays in your mind like a dull ache in your gut. You go through the motions of the day. You still laugh, you have fun, you remember moments laughing with them, you’re a little less motivated at work, but you push through. You listen to your coworkers’ weekends, you go to meetings, you write emails. You smile. You’re nervous for your date. You don’t want to fall in love again, not just yet. You go home and lay in bed once again, alone with your thoughts. Why wasn’t today as good as yesterday? Maybe tomorrow will be better.