 | |||||||||||
| {Or if you're lucky you have both.} |
"You were even beautiful telling me goodbye, maybe my version of the truth is just a lie. What does it matter? What does it matter? A million perfect memories go rushin' through my brain. Every time I smell October you're standing in the rain, when you look over your shoulder, baby you can choose to remember me however you want too, but that's how I'll remember you."
{David Nail- 'That's How I'll Remember You'}
When
I say, "I'm over it," what I mean is,
"I'm used to it. I'm okay with it. I spent so much time fighting it only to realize there was nothing I
could do to change it, so I accepted it and I’m finally happy again.”
Like a
patient with a missing limb if you ask them,
“how do you function with only one
arm,” they would respond,
“I have just gotten used to it.”
But if someone came
along and tried to give them a prosthetic arm, they would take their time to
think about it. They would ask questions and maybe try out several different "new arm's." Eventually they would find a prosthetic that works well, that they love. But
there’s still always going to be that knowledge of what a real arm felt like,
and even though time will erode away that memory, as they get used to living
with the prosthesis, nothing will ever be the same as their real arm.
Even
though they would never ask their original arm to be sewn back on, they know it
has remained severed for a reason and it would be incredibly dysfunctional to
have re attached, the knowledge of how wonderful a real arm is will always be in
the back of their minds.
"Some
nights I wake up knowing he is anxious, he is across the world in another
woman’s arms and the years have spread us like dandelion seeds sanding down the
edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other. He drinks from the
pitcher on the nightstand checks the digital clock, it is 5:00 am, he tosses in
sheets and tries to settle. I wait for him to sleep before tucking myself into
elbows and knees reaching for things I have long since given away."
{Sarah
Kay- 'Private Parts'}
I
only fight with people that are worth my time to fight with;
to be frank in
reality you aren't worth my time.
But trying to tell the canvas of my heart
that the artist who drew that huge line across it,
isn't worth arguing with is
another story.
