The pain comes in waves, infrequent, subtle. Some days it knock you down, on other days it simply floats through you.
It’s the same for every deep hurt. It never disappears. You never truly heal or get over it. Your body remembers. It remembers how your heart fell and your breath became mechanical. It stored that pain so that on an average day like this, you could wake up and remember it.
This morning, as I lay in bed, my heart wandered. And like a ghost drifting through me, the memory of the other woman floated.
I remembered how she had spent over a week at the bfs house with his sister around. All I’d seen was a text message: there’s no food in the fridge. Tell girl x. You know when she comes over she stays for a week.
I don’t know which week she had stayed over. I don’t know how many times she’d spent more than a week at his house. I don’t know how I’d never noticed him spending weeks away from me. Why had I never even thought of going over?
Because I’d trusted him. I’d trusted us.
Sometimes I find myself in a loop asking seemingly frantic questions.
Oh where were you?
What did you get up to?
Whyd the spend it at your place?
Or every time his phone might ring…
What did he want?
Where’s he from?
It’s almost as if you’re trying not to miss a thing cos the last time you had. You’d missed a big thing and it had broken you
I’m fine now. But the memories always come back.