Timmy’s Prayer (Falling Apart)

“Some days are harder than others, but I’m okay” has become my mantra.

I think it whenever the ache threatens to swallow me, say it like a prayer whenever the hole tries to get (impossibly) bigger, wear it like armor whenever the memories bring tears to my eyes.

I don’t try to fight the feelings or the memories or the longing when they come. I take a deep breath, say my mantra a few times, and then I reassure myself that it’s perfectly fine to miss you and what we had.

You are were are the realest, the flyest, the baddest, and the best woman I have ever loved and let love me.

(I’m sorry I didn’t know how to let you love me.)

It makes perfect sense for me to miss us and you but knowing that doesn’t lessen the ache, the opposite in fact.

Knowing that it’s okay to miss us makes everything hurt in a very intense way.

I know I need to stop.

And I’ve been trying.

I don’t tweet for you as much as I used to, I don’t check your page as much as I used to.

But the trouble, I find, isn’t in the typical things people do after a break up: shading over social media, lurking, trying to distract oneself. None of those seem to be my main problem when it comes to moving on from us.

No. My primary issue is this:

I spent so much time thinking about our future that it’s still hard to try and think about my future. I still catch myself factoring you into my plans from time to time....oh she wouldn’t like the climate of that place...still catch myself lost in visions of us living sappily ever after.

But like I said, I’m trying.

I gently guide my mind away and if needed, I let “If I’m James Dean” by SWS blast at full volume in my mindscape and it completely resets my thought process.

Sometimes I want to stop writing to you but I know that if I stop letting everything out in these notes then none of it will feel real and I will be sent spiraling back to the start and I’ve made so much progress, right?

I cry a lot less than I used to.

I still haven’t cried about you not wishing me a happy birthday, and I’m a little scared that I might not ever get around to it.

So many parts of me do not want to accept that this is over, but the majority are dragging them by the hair as they kick and sob and rage in an attempt to rid themselves of at least a smidgen of the pain caused by your absence.

So many parts of me do not want to accept that I’ve lost you for good but I know (I hope) this is for the best.