The ache you left behind.

I no longer look at pictures of me and him and feel anything, I let go of that and it became a thing of the past a long time ago.
But every time I see a picture of us I cringe in pain. I cringe at the idea of us being over and the fact that the past three years no longer mean anything to you.
I cringe thinking about what you’ve done since you left me and our cat behind in our apartment in Newfoundland. The place that we had sought refuge in after the fire that momentarily took over our lives. 
I cringe every time I see something that reminds me of you, because of the memories that crowd my thoughts. The beautiful ones that made me smile and feel as though I would never be alone and the new painful ones that remind me that every promise, kiss and “I love you” were a lie.
I cringe at the new found hatred I have developed for you over the past month. The hatred that grows with each day that passes that we don’t speak, because everyday that goes by is another reminder that it truly is over.
Most say that it is a blessing that you walked away, that I will be better off because of it. But, how can I see the light when it is so easily shadowed by the pain and aching hole in my heart that you left in your wake.
You’ve broken me, made me feel worthless, like a waste of time. 
While the thoughts of you come and go throughout the day the ache remains the same. Only relieved when I am distracted. The second I am alone with my thoughts you, along with every painful memory and the burning desire to have you in my arms once more returns..


Written November 6th 2014.

She layed in bed, staring at the ceiling, her body silent and still; her mind on the other hand was racing, tossing and turning, fumbling over and over as if in a nightmare. But, she wasn’t asleep and this wasn’t a nightmarish dream; this was reality and she was fully aware of it. 

Each day was the same, going through the motions, her body zombie-like, emorionless and stiff. Her routine unchanging; wake up, go for a run, shower, study, get ready and occasionally, go out. But it didn’t matter to her if she ever left the house. It didn’t make a difference to the never ending marathon her mind was running. There was no stopping it, it didn’t make a difference what she did.

Thinking back, it was hard to remember a time when it wasn’t like this. A time when she was simply content. Even worse, she couldn’t remember the time she allowed herself to feel. All she could recall was that it became too much and she turned numb, a comfortable painless numb. 

In her mind, there was no point in going back; because when she could feel, all she felt was sadness. Though she didn’t remember much, the memory of the sadness never left her. It managed to stay neatly tucked away in the back of her mind as if in filing cabinets, along with all the other memories of why she did this to herself. Why she turned numb.

Sitting on her bed, she turned to look at the mirror beside her. Staring into her almost soulless eyes, recalling a time when they were filled with tears almost daily. Then, very softly whispered, it’s better this way.

Happy reading lovelies,

~Lethal Beauty