I have never learned how to cry with style. Pearl-shaped tears streaming down my stain-free face as I wept silently was foreign to me. Yes I've seen the movies and the shows.These people never truly cried .The look of swollen red eyes as sadness flowed through your veins poisoning your spirit and dulling all other emotions was more realistic. Painful events were brought back to memory. The same ones you've tried so hard to keep locked up in the most secluded sections of your mind. I wish I had learned how to cry with style, then I could've done this in front of people instead of alone, under this black mist that refused to shift. No matter how beautiful the weather, the grey skies never left me.
The best time to cry is at night. Undisturbed. No annoying questions. Solitude. Sadness had become my albatross. The strict dictator of my life these past few months. My once hearty laughter that took my breath away was now hollow. Now I only wore a mask with a light smile to protect me from their questions. As per usual, my eyes wandered to picture on my wall. I didn't understand how such a little picture could provoke such pain and sadness in my life. The memories associated with it were too overwhelming, but it was time. The seemingly never ending conflict in my mind on whether to let go of the past has now ended. It was time. I slowly removed the picture from the wall. I couldn't seem to take my eyes of the one person who caused me so much pain yet so much happiness at the same time. My mind became consumed with the desire to wind back time to treasure these precious moments but it was too late. It was time. I had already made up my mind. I was now ready to begin a new chapter of my life and he cannot be a part of it. I wont let him.
I mustered all the strength I could to break free from the wretched curse of love. As I slowly ripped the picture I could feel the chains he left around me loosen. With each tear, my lungs became less heavy, my breathing became more clear. I was no longer trapped in this prison of love. My heart no longer felt the need to be in his presence, to hear his voice, to see his breathtaking smile or those hazel eyes that had always seemed to dismantle my hard exterior to reach the deepest parts of my soul, observing all my secrets and desires.
It was time. I was ready to have a new beginning . I was ready to stop being known as "His Ex". I was ready to be happy again. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as the final piece of the picture fell in the trash. The final chain was released from my body. I took in a deep breath as I wiped away the last of my tears ; the last of Neymar.