Playing with Instagram
It's not even 11 p.m. here and my eyes are already heavy with sleep.
I had a good day. It was one of those days where I accomplished a lot, you know? I had slaved away last night writing two papers and mistakenly drinking a double shot of espresso that ended with me frustratingly tossing and turning in my bed til 4 in the morning.
Today's been good. The weather was beautiful. I'd eaten healthy. Washed my hair. Smoked a cigarette, probably two. Made some tea and put on some fuzzy socks. I'd say it's a win.
I've been feeling relatively calm despite missing him more than ever lately. I made it a point last night however to go through both my Facebook and his to delete everything we've ever posted or liked on each other's profile.
I don't know why that was important to me because simply deleting and blocking him would put an end to everything. But for some reason, I want to keep him around, not close but accessible. I guess somewhere inside of me there's this notion that maybe a year or five years from now, he'll be able to see me there and drop a note.
Tonight though, I am content. Though some days I feel as alone as ever, I think I'm getting used to it, just as how I had gotten used to having him with me.
It's funny this process of falling out of love. It's the first time I'm actually putting effort into forgetting someone. Like a bad habit you suppress and grow out of, falling out of love feels the same.
I've always known how to fall in love. There's the gushing and thinking and smiles that take you by surprise. Then there's the butterflies and the first impressions. There's the way he knocks the wind out of you and the way your eyes meet.
Brian felt so real to me. I don't doubt that I've loved Aaron as well but it was different. There are so many things about Brian that still remains so alive in my head. The curve of his back and his grin. The way he cracked his knuckles and the way he slept.
Falling out of love is taking all this details and making them unimportant. Falling out of love is sitting across from him and telling yourself that he's not the man you fell in love with. Not anymore at least. It's letting go of every comfort and safety you've felt with him and giving it to someone else. Being okay with someone else having it.
With everyday that I live through and feel better about things, I know that he is already 10 steps ahead of me. I'd lived for the longest time thinking that we'd find our way back to each other but it's really hitting me now that it's not the case.
It's not the same winter that I had a year ago and it won't be the same spring. He loved me as much as the warmth of the summer and his love died along with the leaves on the trees in the fall.
That's what relationships bring. They gather constant change and the ones that stand the test of time are the ones that last.
Mine didn't.
I still feel sad for the way things turned out but right now, I'm at peace. I'm happy going to school, going to work, laughing with friends whenever I can but most importantly, I'm genuinely wishing him well.