A Year’s Progress

My writing has abruptly declined until this very moment. I haven’t really been able to do anything when it comes to writing. I can never find the words for anything anymore. The only time words ever seemed to come easily is when it came to you, and maybe it is because you lived in each syllable I wrote at the time. My words were yours and my words meant more to me than most things did at the time. That’s why it was always so difficult to write after you. It felt like I was keeping you alive. My words betrayed me and I wasn’t sure what to do with them anymore.

On this day one year ago, I remember frantically trying to find anything to keep myself busy with. I wanted to be surrounded by friends in an environment that wouldn’t allow me to wallow in the mess you had left behind. I couldn’t stand to be alone. I remember the very thought of it constricting my chest and blurring my vision. I remember how much I drank on this day, and how I would always find myself crying in the scarce seconds I had to myself before someone would come up to check on me. “I couldn’t even last today. I wasn’t strong enough for today.” I muttered those words to myself with utter disappointment.

I wasn’t proud of who I was on this day one year ago. I can’t even really say that I’m proud of myself as I am now- but I survived.

I survived you. And that was the hardest and most difficult task I’ve ever been faced with. As much as I don’t want it to, your chapter still and will hold more significance than most. It was my breaking point. You were when I had to decide, for myself, who exactly I wanted to be.

And now I know that I can be without you. That happiness is achievable. You weren’t the end for me. I’m going to get out there more.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.