Moving On

The coldness of the season has finally taken its toll on me. On my way home last night, I felt the breeze on my skin…I wanted to look up at the sky and see if stars were twinkling brightly, but a voice held me back. There were so many memories, too many recollections, too much pain for the heart to endure.

This is probably the stage that I could notably call, ‘moving-on-relapse’, wherein everything in the present seems to fall back to the times when he was just a phone call away, when missing his presence wasn’t such a big deal, and when I could freely tell him that I love him, without conditions or expectations. It’s a good thing he’s keeping up with his end of the bargain now…of finally allowing me to cut all forms of communication between us. (After what seemed like a hundred attempts, I finally convinced him this was best for both of us.)

The very last time we talked was 3 weeks ago. After 6 months of not replying to his texts or his calls, I figured that maybe it was time to start anew. I thought I was ready to open up myself for friendship, but I now accept that being friends with him is impossible. Hearing his voice still made me vulnerable and every time he brought up what-used-to-be, I could not help but feel the sting and disappointment of heartbreak. Though, he never knew it was painful for me because I have mastered the art of pretending. To see beyond my smile and reach deep into my soul has never been his forte. He believed me whenever I told him I was perfectly fine, even when I wasn’t.

I used to just disappear on him…to just avoid his calls even when we were happily conversing the night before. I know it’s unfair, but I never liked going dramatic on him. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about my emotions anyway.

This time, though, I said my last goodbye. My determination to completely move on with my life has overpowered my heart’s desire.