I know I’m the last person to preach about moving on when I could write several novels on how not to let go, but if you’ve carried the weight of a thousand “what ifs” and “whys” like I have, you know how hard it is to breathe a whole breath when there’s a “what if I did this differently” wedged into your sternum.
So I asked myself. How do you do it?
How do you move on?
How do you move on from that laugh?
Those sleepy eyes
That one dimple.
And upon listing those characteristics that give me nothing but warmth, I realised I’m keeping her alive by keeping them alight. Every time I think of that stupid fuckin dimple, I’m adding fuel to the fire when what I should remember is the constant fucking frost bite I feel in my lungs.
Easier said than done, which makes me resort to revenge. And not in the “ the best revenge is success” kind, but the “I’m going to make you as miserable as I feel” kind. I think for most of us that’s just instant reaction to pain. If someone hits you, majority of the time your reaction is to hit them back. I know that’s mine, and I know it’s juvenile but so far two wrongs have made a right for me and as you can tell, I’m too much of a brat to stray away from familiarity.
Others have stressed that the best revenge is just to move on and be happy. And my all time favourite, “the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else”. If that were true then I would’ve gotten over her 2 girls ago but here I am, thinking about what a terrible fuckin job she does at cooking an omelette. And she’s ruined so many foods for me. I hate oranges, I cannot stand Alfredo. I introduced her to ravioli and now every time I walk by it at a grocery store I glare at it as if it gives me food poisoning. It’s weird how one person can make you not like so many things. I can’t stand Justin Bieber now, Calvin Klein underwear annoys me, the theme music to Bob’s Burgers irks me and I storm out of the room whenever someone even mentions that stupid COD game. And I fuckin hate Star Wars; storm troopers are dumb.
And now I’ve just gone on a rant about shit she’s made me not like anymore when my original reason for this post was to remind not only you but myself that we shouldn’t forget how much space we have tucked away for new things; new songs, new foods, new places, new people.
We all have moments when we do nothing but romanticise the past. There’s a beauty in our nostalgia, but we tend to nurture the good and justify the bad like that time she chose someone else over you, or that fight you guys had that left bruises on your bodies for days after. I need to stop making myself believe that those moments in my life will be the best I’ll ever have. That’s how I ruin my future, and that’s how you will ruin yours.