You know that feeling? I’ve heard it in your voice, I’ve seen it flit across your face.
You look at them and you can see everything. The ugliness you discovered only when it was too late, bordered by your own shame and guilt. The poison that you created together, that became you, first individually, then collectively and then each burnt, broken half again. The alternate choices you could have made, polka-dotted with what-ifs and coloured with deep regret. And also, in thin strands and lines everywhere, glimmers, mere glimpses but definite visions of who they were and what made you fall in love with them.
And you know you’ll never really be over them.
But that’s fine. Admit it. Allow your shame to crumple you up from within. Crumble. Let grief weigh you down and splinter your insides. It hurts terribly, I know. But it’s actually the easier thing to do in the long run. Accept it. Embrace it. And let it move through you and drain out of you through the very holes it created in your fibre. You will never be the same again but you will not be enchained by the experience either.
You’ll be okay.