Yet another day has passed and I am here and you are there. Our worlds don’t seem to intertwine. Never again will they join. And I keep writing the stupidest stories about you, because a part of me that is never going to admit it, misses you. More exactly, I miss the idea of you.
You managed to create such a spiral in my head and with 3 years passing not a lot has changed, although everything changed. I moved on, you moved on, but yet ironically, nothing hurts as moving on.
Actually, what hurts even more except the ashes of what once was, one thing that hurts is the residue of it all – trusting no one, engaging with no one, never giving the chance of a different surreal sunset. You managed to make me feel so empty when everyone offers me the world, the brightest sunsets, yet I don’t want to see them.
You introduced me a to a world of pain that never ends. Showering me with trauma and making me-relieve the bitter ending of our relationship over and over again with every sunset that comes my way and that’s probably the worst part of all.
And it’s not even your fault. It’s not even my fault. We ended and with that a part of me died, I call it the last surreal sunset. Therefore, I became the damaged version of myself I never wanted to become.
Never opening up, building walls and never trusting. Never enjoying sunsets anymore. With anyone.
When we broke up I drank so much. I became drunk of off everything. All the mistakes, all the good, the bad I just got drank and I never got sober, yet the hungover is ever omnipresent. The ashy rays of the sun are still there.
I don’t think there’s a bigger punishment. Seeing the sun without feeling the warmness of the rays on your face. I guess there’s nothing I can do. I got so drunk of off what happened I just stopped feeling. And here I am, emotionally dead 3 years later. Still drunk on old, stale emotions.
And I have men who offer me the world. I have kind and intelligent boys ready to make me happy, but it’s like I don’t want to be happy if it’s not for you. And you, you out of all people, will never be right for me. The math doesn’t add up, yet you manage to still burn the insides of my body. That surreal sunset is still there waiting to be enlighten again. Yet, I don’t let it light me up again.
3 years later I still get goosebumps. 3 years later I still hurt. And I’m shutting down the opportunities of happiness, the opportunities of seeing a sunset with someone who isn’t you. And I don’t want you. Really don’t. I want what I had with you with someone else. I want a different surreal sunset.
And I can’t breathe of how much it hurts. I can’t scream because there’s no one to hear and there’s nothing that can change how I feel. And no one comes close to you. No one in three years has made me feel the way you have in less than 6 months. Yet, I don’t give them a fighting chance.
I guess that’s how it is with true innocent love – it hits you when you least expect it, it rips your heart out and puts a stone inside you forever. If you ask me, I don’t want it to be like that ever.
You managed to kill my favorite part of me. Managed to make me shell up and never open again. Build walls and hide against an identity I don’t recognize.
Taking every single breath without you near pains me. It opens me up and draws everything out. And it’s not even your fault. It’s not even mine.
I guess destiny decided to play tricks on us. Pairing us, knowing we would never work out and ending it with a brisk whisk of a snap of a finger. I don’t know what hurts more the way it all ceased to exist or that I feel stuck in this box of emotionless and I can’t get out.
The emotionless-ness feels like being stuck in this tiny box and every single time you try to push a door to open up the door closes even more, suffocating my feelings in it and all that is left is a nonchalant persona with no grip at all. No grasp of reality. Left with the ashes of what once was a glorious love and never again.
And it’s all a glorification of feelings. It’s not even real. It was never real. Things like that are not meant to be real, they are meant to be stories that I get to tell for years. They are meant to be neverending love stories and not to end minutes after they started.
Because being with you felt like 60 seconds, like one minute of every day. Like a sunset. And our whole relationship was just one really short day.
And everything ends. Everything ceases to exist. Every surreal sunset, sets.