to how we’re supposed to move on. Each day gets a little easier, the weight of the 7 years begin to chip slowly off my shoulders. I’m coming to terms that we’ll never really be strangers. I can’t pretend like I don’t care about how your cousins grow up or whether you started the next chapter to your business or if you still have weekly dinners with your estranged parents. I can’t pretend that you don’t know my quirks and qualms–the stories about mother, my father’s favorite cognac or how cool the room needs to be for me to fall asleep. I’m at awe fathoming how quickly time has gone by this year, I can’t help compare today to how it was last year–I have to stop looking at our past with rose colored glasses. I’m trying to collect pieces of myself that I’ve neglected. Recreating new memories to look back upon..
No one tells you how easily you begin to romanticize your past memories. How easily it is to fall in the trap of stating ” it wasn’t that bad…” I just have to remind myself constantly why we needed to let go.
Sometimes letting things go is an act of greater power than defending or hanging on.