If it's been real, it never really goes away
Some people say that a past love, once properly ended, goes away, at some point, from our lives. That we usually have that classical period of shock, denial, anger, then acceptance and finally moving on.
For me, there's no such thing, really. It doesn't. It just can't. Unless it wasn't real. We only manage to get used to it, in time, and treat it (somehow) as a normal disease, buried inside our own skin, flesh & blood. We stop thinking of it too often and acknowledge its presence, but this doesn't mean that it's not there anymore. 'Cause it is.
For some reason, I remembered last week how I felt many years ago (already) - god, how time passes by.... - when I really fell in love for the first time in my life and also accepted it :); I recall walking on a street and the pain inside me suddenly became so vivid, it hit me with such a strong force, that I was looking at other people walking by and couldn't help but wonder - do they see me? do they know what I'm feeling right now? am I transparent? will I be able to survive with all these burning inside me? how do others manage it? how do they keep on living and get along with their lives, with all this turmoil kept inside? And then all I wanted to do was scream, hoping that, somehow, it would get easier, but I couldn't - too weak and too afraid, I guess.
Now, looking back at this point in my life, I'm reliving it with a semi-sad smile on my face. Would I have done everything the same, back then, should I have known what I do now? Hard to tell. Would I have chosen the same persons, same stories, same happy moments and, then, same final errors? Maybe, maybe not. Although these questions often come to my mind recently, I still try not to completely answer them. I guess I'm still afraid of what the final answer could reveal.
For me, there's no such thing, really. It doesn't. It just can't. Unless it wasn't real. We only manage to get used to it, in time, and treat it (somehow) as a normal disease, buried inside our own skin, flesh & blood. We stop thinking of it too often and acknowledge its presence, but this doesn't mean that it's not there anymore. 'Cause it is.
For some reason, I remembered last week how I felt many years ago (already) - god, how time passes by.... - when I really fell in love for the first time in my life and also accepted it :); I recall walking on a street and the pain inside me suddenly became so vivid, it hit me with such a strong force, that I was looking at other people walking by and couldn't help but wonder - do they see me? do they know what I'm feeling right now? am I transparent? will I be able to survive with all these burning inside me? how do others manage it? how do they keep on living and get along with their lives, with all this turmoil kept inside? And then all I wanted to do was scream, hoping that, somehow, it would get easier, but I couldn't - too weak and too afraid, I guess.
Now, looking back at this point in my life, I'm reliving it with a semi-sad smile on my face. Would I have done everything the same, back then, should I have known what I do now? Hard to tell. Would I have chosen the same persons, same stories, same happy moments and, then, same final errors? Maybe, maybe not. Although these questions often come to my mind recently, I still try not to completely answer them. I guess I'm still afraid of what the final answer could reveal.
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