Breaking up is such a difficult time for those who were in love. It’s always that one person who never wanted to let go but has to or pretend like they feel the same way when they have to. Why does it have to be so difficult?
The worse thing is not only the break up but what comes after, the shower of loneliness, the urges we have to control to talk to the one person we really want to connect to once again, the badgering of ourselves and our minds telling it that everything is okay. The moving on process is so long and hard. You miss the comfort and the fact that the sex was good. Or that it took so long to find the right person to only realise they were equally fucked up as you. Even though there was a tiny part of you knowing something was terribly wrong, we ignore it and we take a leap ahead, open up our hearts and then the truth catches up.
Why do we have to resist messaging them or talking to them when clearly that is not what we want to do? Why do we constraint ourselves with the pain of knowing that, that person is happy somewhere living their lives. We can’t wait to ask them or to know if they’ve moved on or do they miss us. We let our curiosities peak just to watch ourselves go back to the beginning of the grieving process.
I hate how once upon a time they were your everything and now they are your nothing. They only look at the bad, they only look at how things didn’t work out, they only remember what broke us but we only think about the good times and how everything could have or should have worked out.
We know we are responsible for the consequences that took place and yet we want to deny our part and let the person breaking up with us be the villain. The one who damaged us, the one who knows all our secrets and is scot free telling the next one about our most dearest fears that lead to them leaving us.
Breaking up is so inhumane, so robotic – filled with rules. You can’t let your pride down, you won’t let them hurt you again, you wouldn’t make that call, you cannot wait for them to beg you to have you back just so you could punch them in their gut and say – in your dreams pal.
You don’t ever know whats happening on the other side and you don’t even dare to ask yourself why things didn’t work. Their memories come and go like the wind and you breath it in and then it go.
You don’t want to know if they are with someone else or that you mean’t nothing. You don’t want to be put down and you don’t want to face the truth that whatever happened, happened for good.
How can something that was so beautiful be bad? How can your best memories turn into lessons. The more the heart breaks the more aware you become. The more you stop yourself, the more you shut down, the more you keep people away.
The entire process of waiting to forget is so heartless. In the end we all are made up of dust but while the soul adds to life, you live with the guilt of not knowing the real reason of why things shattered.
Perfection is not mean’t exist. People are looking for the one that won’t hurt them, that won’t break them but that is what was mean’t to happen, you were mean’t to be broken, you were mean’t to be alone so you learn the difference.
Life is only lonely in the thought, it’s the good times that let you grieve the bad times. It is the good life that lets you realise what the bad life was.
That restaurant, those streets, those things you both liked, those things you both did. Consumed in each other at the beginning and sick of one another in the end. How do you predict these things? How do you keep yourself safe?
Why should you forget? Why should you remember? Why not let it be, why not let evil stay evil while you rinse yourself of the pure?
Will things ever be the same again? No but isn’t that the point of life itself? It cannot be repeated.
Until the next blog