After intensely feeling so much pain, and crying until my head was pounding, it's hard to remember what happiness feels like. It's hard to know if I'm smiling because I'm actually moving on and life is starting to feel normal again, or if I'm simply trying to be less of a bummer for the people around me.
I don't know if not wanting to talk about you means I've grown, or if your name is just still painful on my lips. I'm not sure if I compare everyone to you because it makes every nice guy seem even better, or because I don't think anyone will be as charismatic as you are.
I'm not sure how the healing process works. I can tell it's clearly different for everyone based on the varying and opposing pieces of advice my friends give me. I do know that even if I still care for you, and even if you are on my mind more than you should be, it's okay.
It's okay because I don't text you, even when I hear that commercial on the radio that we would make fun of. I didn't even call you when I had when I got that promotion and needed to tell someone. I am just in this grey area of moving on. It's scary, but it's exciting.
I notice attractive people in public more often. People aren't constantly telling me "you look tired," like they did right after we broke up. Things are improving for me.
I don't know if that means I'm over you. I don't know if it means I'm almost over you. But I do know it means I don't need you. I've been out here surviving! I have Instagram pictures again, plans to look forward to, and dreams that don't involve anyone but myself.
I feel free. I don't know if I still love you, I don't know if it's possible to stop. But I keep pressing forward on the road to self-healing, and when I turn my head to look behind me, you're just a speck in the distance.
One day, there will be nothing to look back at.