You know, it's a funny thing. This mental loop I keep running on almost a daily basis off and on. Things really weren't the best between us, despite all the praises my subconscious may provide to try and justify my adoration etc. but all the same things were never so bad either. It really is an odd thing. I am truly talented in remembering peculiar things. All the small things both grand and insignificant that were shared in the time of our close relations...anyway, I met a new person, a true breath of fresh air and very different from my significant other, and within the two or three weeks I've known her I've had more face to face interaction with her than I did in almost two months of dating my girlfriend. And yet, I still find myself missing it. Even defending it, as if I have to explain myself to myself, as each side of my brain pokes at the other incredulously.
Some days are great and easy and good and things flow over nicely. Not a single blue thought floating by In the metaphysical blue sky in the atmosphere of my mind-scape. And other days, I walk through a horror house room of mirrors whose reflections show pieces of myself I felt I should've changed, or past memories that while objectively great and blissful at times just pinch at my neck and chest. These clouts can last for days, and usually I call them ruts. It is in these days that I see her in everything that I see or do or hear or think or eat or dream or etc... But even with all that, hardest of all is the honest-to-self reality that hits every time. Right about the time that I make myself aware of how well she is doing. How content she now is, or seems to be. The hand pat on the shoulder, tussle of the hair, and strong, clear voice that both comforts and condemns all at once whose name is Reality.
You don't really miss her. More honestly, it's the idea of her.
The potential of what could've been.
That's a fact. No changing that.
There might be things you could have done, or maybe even still could do about it all...
But,
You know full well, deep down, that it's better this way.
And as smoothly as the apparition comes, it recedes back into the extensive, cavernous existence of my consciousness. And afterward I will sit there, or walk there, or do whatever I was doing whilst pondering these things, absentmindedly for quite some time.
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( I get embarrassed every time I read this because I was being such a drama queen )
Some days are great and easy and good and things flow over nicely. Not a single blue thought floating by In the metaphysical blue sky in the atmosphere of my mind-scape. And other days, I walk through a horror house room of mirrors whose reflections show pieces of myself I felt I should've changed, or past memories that while objectively great and blissful at times just pinch at my neck and chest. These clouts can last for days, and usually I call them ruts. It is in these days that I see her in everything that I see or do or hear or think or eat or dream or etc... But even with all that, hardest of all is the honest-to-self reality that hits every time. Right about the time that I make myself aware of how well she is doing. How content she now is, or seems to be. The hand pat on the shoulder, tussle of the hair, and strong, clear voice that both comforts and condemns all at once whose name is Reality.
You don't really miss her. More honestly, it's the idea of her.
The potential of what could've been.
That's a fact. No changing that.
There might be things you could have done, or maybe even still could do about it all...
But,
You know full well, deep down, that it's better this way.
And as smoothly as the apparition comes, it recedes back into the extensive, cavernous existence of my consciousness. And afterward I will sit there, or walk there, or do whatever I was doing whilst pondering these things, absentmindedly for quite some time.
( I get embarrassed every time I read this because I was being such a drama queen )
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