There's the red lipstick. The thigh-high boots. Oversize sweater over itsy bitsy booty shorts. The pretty legs and the smug attitude.
There's the mischievous smile. The inappropriate jokes. The sexual innuendos. The comment on the balls and how easily they squirt in my mouth with just a gentle bite. Fish ball with roe is the best.
There's the excitement over Aldi near my new apartment. And probably 12 different places I wanted to eat at. There's home-automating my whole place. There's IKEA trips and more.
I asked my friend, "Did I not love him enough? Why am I enjoying myself instead of grieving? Or am I just an overly optimistic person whom grief had no effect? Am I not right in the head?"
He told me I was in a very bad place the weeks after my break up, and even now I am still grieving. But I get to do things that I haven't been able to do, both because of pandemic and because him and I have different preference. It's natural that I feel happy.
But a part of me felt like I betrayed him. My love for him was immense, so what right do I have to be happy? Did I not just lose a man that means the world to me? Am I really unable to love, to keep a connection?
But the hearth is still not turned on. I haven't cook anything other than instant noodle. I can't even bring myself to buy anything for my pantry. I still have to remind myself to sleep in the middle of the bed.
People still checking on me. Offers flooding in for furnitures, dinner, or simply to make sure I am ok. I might feel like I am on the path of living my best life yet again, but I am not.
I can lie about it. My friends see through it, though. I am still sad and miserable. I am still missing him like crazy. Every day I woke up with optimism and every night I ended up whispering his name.
At some point I need to accept I can't change anything. I tried. I give my all. I can spend a lifetime blaming myself for making him hurt, or I can start accepting that it takes two to tango. I can't carry the whole dance on my own.
It physically pains me to imagine turning the stove on to cook. Nor can I bring myself, yet, to finish unpacking. I am not ready. Even as it feels like holding on to water on your palm. I am not ready.
I know time heals everything, and that gaping hole in my heart will soon be filled again. Even if it will take a while, because the hole is absurdly big and the happiness to fill it is nothing compared to my happiness with him. I know I will be fine. I know I will heal.
Yet at this time, this night, this particular point in life, it feels that the pain is... evermore.
For all it's worth, you're not alone. Im currently surviving through a breakup too (feel free to read it in my blog if you ever have time)
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I know it's not easy, but at least you have who care for you, keep checking on you. Meanwhile, I went through my breakup with very few people to talk to. At this age, my friends are busy with their job or family, different priorities.
Well, for all it's worth, know that you're not alone and that one day you'll remember all of this with smile. That's what I believe too.