What I did to forget about you:

What I did to forget about you:

I cut my hair; I dyed it too.
I changed my address. 
I changed my look.
I forgot to eat. 
I ate too much. 
I stayed home. 
I went out.
I reunited with old friends and made new ones along the way.
I avoided the places we used to go.
I became a regular at certain stores.
For the first week, I broke down every night.
I sweat from and inexplicable fever in my sleep. 
I craved you when I was with someone new.
I got drunk.
I got very drunk.
I tried to drown my sorrows but those bastards learned how to swim.
I washed my skin and I scrubbed hard.
I tried to get rid of the smell of your body on mine until my skin turned red and hot and tender to the touch.
I cried. I wept. I still do.
I drank some more and my tears were my chasers. 
I kissed strangers, lots of them, but all I could taste was you. 
I ran away, to the gym, back home, and back to my apartment.
I ran from my problems but they always beat me home.
I tried to replace the emotional pain with a physical one.
Muscle soreness, self inflicted to momentarily forget, yet it still reminded me of you: of the time you hit me, and the time I hit you.
I slept. I went days without sleeping. I was drinking my pain away. Staying up late with champagne supernovas to celebrate one day without thinking about you.
Clouds of white, snow and smoke enshrouded me and I felt protected. But they dissipated and I saw you out, with someone else, and I had to start again and forget the progress I had made.
I cried alone and I cried with friends.
I promised myself: “This time around I will forget…about you, about us, about the person I was.”
I danced until my body ached, so that I could get home and sleep, too exhausted to think of anything before I went to bed.
I met someone, I let them go. I loved you, but I loved myself more.
I lost you, but I found myself. I learned to love myself.
I cut my hair. I changed address. 
I danced and I drank but this time to celebrate.
I cried some more, but not for you this time around.
I cried for life, for youth, and for joy.
I cried for the happiness I missed out on while waiting for you, to come home, to come back into my life.
I found joy and I found life.
Most importantly, I found myself when I forgot about you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s