Precious [h.s.]

Chapter 50

Now I'm knee-deep in this mess
I could cry just thinking about you
Every line I write is something about you

It must have been a few days since I last saw Nadine. Since I broke up with Nadine.

I still haven't gotten used to it. I find myself asking why she hasn't called me that day, or thinking if she could come over and spend the night, but then I remember. I can understand why she hasn't called. I think I've been pretty clear about what I want from now on, but that doesn't make me miss her any less. It's fucked up, and I wish I could simply erase my feelings, but I can't do that.

I never thought a breakup would affect me this much. I've been in relationships before. I broke up with people, and I've got broken up with, but the way I'm feeling right now is new to me. You would think that because of what I found out I would want to get rid of everything that has any connection to her, my feelings included, but I come across things that belong to her, or that remind me of her, and a part of me says that I should put them in a box, and get them as far away from me as possible, but instead, I sit down and look at a piece of clothing for thirty minutes straight.

I heard that once you break up with someone you should delete all of their pictures, and get rid of anything that takes you back to them, but I can't bring myself to do that. I've been having problems sleeping, so before I try to go to sleep for the fourth time, I scroll through the pictures on my phone and think back to that day. In the dark of night, I find myself smiling at pictures and zooming into each detail of them. I didn't know I had every moment with her stored in the back of my brain until they appeared in my mind with each photo that I looked at. I remember the story behind all of them. I remember what we were doing, where we were, I remember the weather, the clothes we were wearing, and I remember the feelings we had.

I go to sleep late, and I wake up early. I love my job more than ever now. Nothing changed. I still do the same thing every day, meet the same people, and walk the same street. Everything's the same, but now it has a purpose. Maybe a more subjective one. One that has an effect only on me, but it changed my whole perspective of it. If it weren't for Nadine, I would have handed in my resignation letter a long time ago, but it was close, the program was flexible, and I got to spend a lot of time with her. I could quit now if I wanted to, but the thing that keeps me there are the memories. Our first kiss, the way we danced, and the many cakes we shared. It also keeps me busy, and that's good. You might think that with all those moments we shared there, I'd think about her all the time, but I made sure I have so much to do that I have no space in my schedule for that. I work overtime, I take other people's places when their kid is sick, and I help clean up after we close.

I do everything I can to get rid of her from my mind, only to come home and let my imagination run free. When I don't work, I write, and when I don't write, I sleep, which nowadays is barely a few hours a night. I was writing before. I was writing about love, I was writing about how pretty she was, and about how I could never live without her. The latter one I'm still trying to adapt to, but now my words have taken a sudden turn. They're no longer happy, hopeful, or sweet. Every time I'm done writing something, and I read it, I wonder where that came from. I've never been one to keep my feelings bottled up, but when the pen touches my fingers, I discover a whole new world living inside of me, inside my heart. I keep telling myself that I'm fine, that occasionally crying when thinking about her is okay, and that there's nothing wrong with me, but the ink on the paper brings out such deep-felt emotions I wasn't even aware of.