I was dreading this feeling. I knew it was coming, but I didn't know how fast. At some point, holding onto your grief becomes just too exhausting, and you have to let it go. There was a part of me that was dying, and clinging to it wasn't keeping it alive, but it was all I knew how to do. Now the wound inside me is healing and scar tissue is forming in its place. It's much less sensitive. I'm sad, but my whole world has not collapsed. I'm lonely, but there are things to look forward to. I still cry, but I don't have to dwell endlessly on unrealistic hopes about what might have been.
Me from two days ago would look at the person I am today and hate her. Pre-breakup Suzanne wasn't stupid or naive enough to think that she had found a perfect love that could never be replaced, but she was in love and she wasn't picky enough to think that it has to be perfect, either. She wasn't ready to let that go just yet, and somehow it seemed like a terrible injustice to put Alison up on the shelf in my mind of girls I've dated and broken up with and gotten past. Bittersweet memories. It should have come down to more than that, shouldn't it?
Today's me is moving on, not because she particularly wants to, but because she has to. I'm realistic. I know things will be better soon. I accept that Alison and I probably wouldn't have worked out in the long run. I'm glad for the memories. I'm not unemotional, but I am becoming more and more rational about it. Somehow, it seemed better to be able to embrace my misery and hold onto it, however much I knew I couldn't do that forever. Maybe reality is just the thing that destroys our feelings, and leaves us numb.
Time heals all wounds. It also leaves you a little bit bitter and jaded. Accepting that is accepting your own death, albeit slowly.
Time to move on. I have things to do. I have to dilate again, then I'll go for a run, and I'll go from there. It's a beautiful day out and the sun is shining and the birds are singing and I hate myself.
3 weeks ago