Thoughts on a Thursday Night

The emptiness is deafening, almost unbearable. Nothing can fill the hole you’ve left. There may be a flood inside of me in several instances, but I can still feel the void where you used to be.

I never got to mourn you properly, I never got to cry for you properly.

Maybe I should have.

Maybe I should have cried for you, maybe I should have let every molecule of you be wiped away along with my tears. Maybe that way I could have drowned my suffering.

But having to see you every day and not fall apart was a task that took all my strength, all my focus. Ironically, what I couldn’t see was that maybe if I had fallen apart and let you go then I wouldn’t have to let you go now in silence.

Because I can’t cry now. Not when everyone thinks I’ve moved on; not when I, too, have just convinced myself that I’ve moved on.

Even if just for a few minutes.

(Just until another random memory of us makes its way into my mind. Just until the next Facebook reminder of something that happened a lifetime ago, but it still feels like yesterday.)

I should have let you go a long time ago, back before everything got so complicated. Way before, back when we sat on that sidewalk of our favorite bar and talked about an uncertain future, while I tried desperately to ignore the fact that, deep down, I already knew I had lost you. 

(Originally written in 2018 - only now finding its way into the light)



Comentários

Postar um comentário

Postagens mais visitadas deste blog

Sometimes

Sometimes it still hurts the memories, the thoughts It was never real, and yet It hurts all the same   Sometimes I still imagine what ifs, make beliefs It was never possible, and yet I imagine it anyway   Sometimes I still wonder different choices, different worlds It could never be real, and yet I wonder again and again   Every day I still try keep going, don't look back It will never be easy, and yet I'll try 'till the end of the time Remember everything will be alright We can meet again somewhere Somewhere far away from here
Leia mais

quartas-feiras

Imagem
Em uma quarta-feira chuvosa e cinza, ele acordou com o despertador, lavou o rosto e foi para cozinha preparar o seu café. Colocou duas xícaras na mesa, pegou o jornal do armário, abriu a janela o suficiente para a brisa entrar. Quando foi ligar a sua máquina de café retrô, no entanto, a falta de resposta do aparelho abriu um buraco em seu peito que o deixou sem respirar por alguns minutos. Às vezes estamos em uma rota de colisão e nem percebemos. Sentindo as mãos formigando, tentou continuar com sua manhã. Não conseguiu regar suas avencas nem suas samambaias, esqueceu de esperar a água do chuveiro ficar na temperatura certa, por algum motivo não acertou o nó da gravata. Pisou de meia em um molhado no banheiro, mas não tinha mais pares limpos para usar. Sua manhã meticulosamente cronometrada e planejada em um fluxo contínuo estava arruinada. Poucas coisas na vida deixam a gente assim, completamente perdidos. Os olhos olhavam mas não viam, o sangue corria nos ouvidos, e o corpo pesava ...
Leia mais