Three-month rule. They said it has to be three months after the break up before you can freely allow somebody into your life again. I’m counting. Not because I want to enter into another relationship after three months. But because it has been my basis of moving on. Right now, I still have two weeks to complete three months but I’m getting better or feeling much better I guess. Yeah. I think so.
The Grieving Process. DABDA. Denial-Anger-Bargaining-Depression-Acceptance. I am always evaluating myself. Funny I relate moving on with something far worse like death of a loved one to go over this grieving process. Because for me, whatever painful event it is that you are trying to overcome, you still grieve somehow. So, upon assessment of my current status, I think, I’m still a bit not done with Depression stage. Anyway, this process takes four to six months. I’m not in a hurry.
Silence. This is one moment when silence and solitude become my enemies. They give me a lot of space to think. And its not easy because I tend to overthink especially when I have a lot of time for myself. And when I say I overthink, my mind wanders to the past. Like I was given a week off, I wasted four days out from home and with my friends, but I was literally stuck in the house for the last two days. Can you imagine just sleeping and eating the whole day, without anyone to talk to? I hugged guitar too long and exhausted my playlist but still, my mind can’t be stopped from floating somewhere else. I have lots of books but I am not in the mood to read.
Flashbacks. I saw a picture of a food taken from our favorite restaurant, moments eating together there comes back to my mind. And like scenes from the movies, I see them again. Both of us, happy, inlove. The times we fought about me having no time for you because of my friends, and you having no time for me because of your friends. I read an article about boyfriends and I thought about how you were once a boyfriend to me, then, not anymore. I saw your bestfriend and his girl still together on facebook, and I reminisce how lovely it has been with them when we were out for double dates. Timehop is one enemy I have to face every 9am when it gives me a notification, and I am hoping to not encounter you on that app… again… and again, like everyday of my life. God. I would like to uninstall you now, Timehop. But then, sometimes, I realize, it could be one way for me to become stronger, facing your photo everyday makes me immune to the feeling, so no, I’ll keep that app. Your sister posted on instagram and facebook and its her innocent face I stare at. Your girl version. How would I forget that face. Then when she got time, she tells me she misses me so much. Sweet. And here comes your mom asking me how I was, of course I love her so so I kept in touch with her. And, hey, you know what, I call her. I talk to your parents. Yeah, even your dad loves talking to me. My wardrobe, oh my God. Most of my clothes were from you. And our couple shirt is still intact, but I kept in the most unseen place in my closet because it has Iron Man printed on it. You know how I love Robert Downey Jr., so I’ll still keep it. If anybody would tell me to throw everything away that my ex has given me, I’ll run out of something to wear. The rest of the things I remember were the last months of struggling to work it all out. The pain of being the only one who has the guts to still continue. The realizations that I deserve better and that you were a jerk. The happiness of talking to you. The heartmelting words. The sadness of being far from you. The moments you cried ’cause you miss me. The times we fought because of small things. The agony of waiting… The difficult situations. The pain comes back. And I sometimes can’t control it. Sometimes, I just let it. Because if I try to fight it, I lose. Like right now, I remember your face. How you smile at me, how you wink at me, how that face turned me into someone so guarded I won’t allow anybody in. How that lovely face gave me the sweetest expressions with the sharpest knife to stab my heart to death. Flashbacks. I don’t want you to go away. I’ll keep all of you not because I still love him, but because I wan’t to move on from the hurts now. Like an antibiotic of the highest generation, I’ll drink everything up and let my heart be tolerant to it. So tomorrow, when you come back and mess around my mind, I would only laugh at you because I’m done.