Its gotten easier recently. I don’t think about it as much. I don’t lay awake at night in my empty bed wondering where you are and what you are doing.
I don’t catch myself out anymore when a song comes on that reminds me of you. I can just simply enjoy it and not associate it with you.
I don’t think of something that makes me smile and automatically link it to you. I can remember trips to places I’ve like and not think that you were there holding my hand, pretending you gave a shit about me.
I don’t think of when you told me you loved me, all the while you were telling other people tales about me and sleeping around with other people.
Don’t get me wrong it hurts every now and then. I get an itch to find out what you’ve been doing and then when I see your face or your words I remember how much you hurt me and to be honest what a cunt you are. I can now laugh at you and your words and feel a sick delight in knowing you are hurting too.
I’ve partly paved over the patio I buried memories of you under. There is just a small piece left to lay a slab over. I’m not quite ready to do it yet, maybe that part of my heart is still bandaged and burnt and needs a little more time to recover and reveal itself in its beautiful bright red.
I’ll accomplish it soon. I’ll put a beautiful arrangement of flowers on it. I’ll build a structure of new memories that make the ones with you in wither and die and become dirt.
Soon you won’t bother me anymore. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I’m nearly there. You are nearly all erased and just a dirty black smudge on my body that will fade over time and be replaced with new skin.
You are almost gone. And this will be the happiest goodbye I will ever give in my whole life.