It was a little strange at first, knowing so confidently, so certainly, almost boldly. This isn't a mistake or a misunderstanding. And I'm not over-looking anything, avoiding anything, or deny anything. I am simply...moving forward.
I remember the day exactly because once I felt it, once I really knew it, I sat myself on my desk and began writing. My hands cramped under the yellow lamp light beside me, I remember. It was as if rushing myself to document the very moment and my very thoughts would freeze it all and make it permanent. But really, I didn't need to be so anxious. I just couldn't help myself. It was relieving, like being freed.
I didn't try to over-analyze it. I couldn't, probably, even if I tried. It came so simply, so casually even. But I did give it thought for reassurance. I sat there thinking, giving light to any of its darkness. I found some clarity once I tried to imagine myself being who I was before it came to me. I realized that I no longer fell asleep thinking about it, nor do I wake up thinking about it like I did every day for as long as I can remember. It didn't creep slyly through out my day for it to kick me in the back of knee or nudge me by my side. I couldn't feel my chest throb when I would flash memories in front of myself. The late cloudy afternoons that turned into those painful nights inside my room, under the covers... turned into glimpses of memories that I would soon forget. The only songs that made sense then were now either just really pretty songs, really good songs, really bad songs, or just another Pop song. They weren't songs that I wanted to list under a vague name with the rest of the songs that reminded me. The words that I once held on to like a helpless child were erasable. The same words that I would read over and over again or repeat in my head over and over again. The promises, the heart aches both good and bad. Even the moments, the very rare and very sacred moments, that took my breath away in the most fantastically tragic and hopeless way became stories that wouldn't matter to be told. Brown eyes became common and insignificant in my world again. Everything I once held precious just wasn't anymore. I just felt as if I finally packed up my old things and stored them away. There was no emptiness, no open wounds. It wasn't replaced with something else. I just finally... let it go. And for maybe over 4 years, that was all I ever really wanted.
The day that I never thought would come hit me point blank in the face. This isn't a life-changing realization. This is just a realization. Who knows how long I've really been this way and not have known it? Some things that we really want effortlessly find their way to us. Some things, that is. Sometimes.
I didn't try to over-analyze it. I couldn't, probably, even if I tried. It came so simply, so casually even. But I did give it thought for reassurance. I sat there thinking, giving light to any of its darkness. I found some clarity once I tried to imagine myself being who I was before it came to me. I realized that I no longer fell asleep thinking about it, nor do I wake up thinking about it like I did every day for as long as I can remember. It didn't creep slyly through out my day for it to kick me in the back of knee or nudge me by my side. I couldn't feel my chest throb when I would flash memories in front of myself. The late cloudy afternoons that turned into those painful nights inside my room, under the covers... turned into glimpses of memories that I would soon forget. The only songs that made sense then were now either just really pretty songs, really good songs, really bad songs, or just another Pop song. They weren't songs that I wanted to list under a vague name with the rest of the songs that reminded me. The words that I once held on to like a helpless child were erasable. The same words that I would read over and over again or repeat in my head over and over again. The promises, the heart aches both good and bad. Even the moments, the very rare and very sacred moments, that took my breath away in the most fantastically tragic and hopeless way became stories that wouldn't matter to be told. Brown eyes became common and insignificant in my world again. Everything I once held precious just wasn't anymore. I just felt as if I finally packed up my old things and stored them away. There was no emptiness, no open wounds. It wasn't replaced with something else. I just finally... let it go. And for maybe over 4 years, that was all I ever really wanted.
The day that I never thought would come hit me point blank in the face. This isn't a life-changing realization. This is just a realization. Who knows how long I've really been this way and not have known it? Some things that we really want effortlessly find their way to us. Some things, that is. Sometimes.
