I stared at the chocolates in their tiny little blue and silver foil wrappers. Four of them outlined in startling cobalt blue with tiny paper ribbons waving out their pointed tops. Kisses. The irony of their brand hit me and I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh. Four to signify every boy I’d loved and lost. Every heart that had taken a piece of me when they left. I bet my friend never thought that this small gift would represent my love life a few days down the road.
I could not bring myself to say it then. But oh God, I loved them all in their own time. I loved them so fiercely that when the love died, I felt the chill of their loss for years to come. Like a fire that burnt itself out, it would try to hang on in the dying embers and finally die, grey and cold. At night, alone, I still cried for them. Or perhaps it was not for them but for the parts of me I would never be able to retrieve. The broken, lost pieces that each took with them when they said goodbye or gave that last awkward hug that said “This is weird”.
People used to ask me “Are you ok?” but I didn’t know what to say, so I said I was fine. I lied. Four times multiplied by the number of people who cared enough to ask but in their concern, wounded me even more. Unknowingly done. But still the pain was there. Every time they asked, I was reminded of the person I had been and the memories I had had.
Did I miss the ones I used to love? Or the memory of them? I could not be sure. It was never easy. For days I might choose to starve myself and write. Endless pieces of writing that were never good enough to fill the spaces left behind. Endless gnawing moments of hunger…for what? Many things, I suppose. Physically, food but other than that, a tormented hunger of thoughts that raged between moments of missing the one I lost to encouraging myself to think that I had made the right choice to walk away or be walked away from.
Ultimately, they would sink into that same old thought. It’s all your own fault. One barely thinks when one is in pain. Especially when it’s a pain that can’t be so easily remedied. Especially if it’s pain that is self-inflicted. You chose it, I tell myself. Somehow, accepting the guilt doesn’t make it go away.
P.S. This post was supposed to be posted up on Wednesday but I couldn't bring myself to do it because it meant really saying goodbye. For those who do not know yet and there are bound to be questions from you guys, yes, I broke up with my boyfriend of 1 year+ and I feel the stupidity of what I did. This post is for you. You know who you are.