It's been nearly three months since I have been single, and nearly three weeks since I have been entirely single. And by entirely, I mean that the heavy sinking feeling has dissipated from my repertoire of daily emotions; thoughts of my former love do not percolate into my mind moments before falling asleep. I can function without melancholic pauses, and I can do things which we used to do together, all by my lonesome self without wanting to vomit my heart out. It would not be accurate for me to say that I have moved on, but for the most part, I have come to terms with the separation. It took longer than I thought, mostly because I failed to cut him out the moment he said goodbye. It was a foolish move on my part, knowing that I am inherently out of sight, out of mind.
It is difficult for a person with my mindset to let go of something which they found to be interminable at one point; in order for me to fall in love with someone, I need to convince myself of some sort of permanence. I need to continually assert that this person is mine, and mine to keep forever; I need to believe that it is an inimitable relationship which needs to be polished, fed, and looked after at every possible moment, and that I am inseparable from this person. And because this was the first time I ever allowed a person to become the gravity of my world, it was so difficult to immediately readapt to a different order of the universe.
With that being considered, I am doing all right. I've gained some of the healthy pounds I lost, I have become a little more grounded, and I have no regrets. It is because I believe that everything happens for a reason, and the stars do not lie, only our interpretation can be skewed. I face forward, ready for the next chapter. I will not be embittered, I will not hold back. I've got my heart back, and I plan on using it again, and I'll start by placing it back on my sleeve.
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