letting go

i am not bitter, nor do i bruise easily. I have a rather thick skin, really. but one wound i have found it impossible to heal, though time, and the literature, and songs and my mother tell me otherwise, is my broken heart. Every mention of his name, though we are drawing on the one year mark from the end soon, brings about a fresh wave of sadness that cuts at the scars on the my heart until i feel like the colour black.

I don't know if it was just because it was my first love, that heady cocktail of passion and youth and stars and dreams... or if it is anything more. i've moved on, but then i haven't. there was no closure to the relationship, and i can't bring myself to see him, even now. is that wrong of me? Should i be the bigger person? What am i even doing?

not many of my friends know the depths of my despair about this. when the end was fresh, tears would fall freely at night and it would not be unheard of for me to be heard abusing his very name throughout the drafty corridors of school. But now, almost a year later, i think these thoughts to myself. no-one will listen anymore. I should have moved on by now.

But i can't. i don't know why. i just can't. It's terrible. i want to, so much. i really do. but i can't.

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