What It Takes...

It took me:
seven months
72 sleepless nights
moving away
Trying to love someone else
74,730 words in an unread manuscript
301 replays of the same playlist
2 bottles of Essie Soul Mate nail polish
7 dozen Tim Horton’s vanilla dipped donuts
Mentally disabling myself
Being tied in knots
Hating you
Mourning you
Emotionally shutting myself down
Punishing my soul
Being consumed by fear
Burning Madame Bovary
Just so that I could figure out, that happiness is not caring if I will ever see you again. Finally after all this time I can let go...

I thought for the longest time that there wouldn't ever come a point where I could just walk away and seriously not care anymore but it has. It's interesting to think that when we love something so hard it will never lose its meaning, it didn't have to. The time spent and memories made will never lose its importance but I think I made you out to be something you weren't....good for me. Thank you for making me work so hard, and hurting me so very deeply because without that I wouldn't have the motivation to never put myself in that position again, and to never lose myself in someone else’s opinion of me.

Sunday Snippet - Erasing Memories of You

I'm posting something that left my mind wandering the other night for several hours. It could turn into a new novella, full novel, or maybe just an idea that gives birth to a chapter in something I am currently working on. I think it came about partially because I've been analyzing Frankenstein by Mary Shelley in my Brit Lit class, and I was up late watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  Do you think its ever possible to actually ache for someone so much, that when they remove themselves totally from your life, you want the memories to be gone too?




She threw away everything he ever sent. Well, almost everything. She couldn't seem to get rid of the memories. She wanted to erase them. She wanted every synapse of thought that surrounded or involved him to be permanently gone. She had loved him. She hurt him. And he had hurt her immeasurably. She thought he loved her, but now she knew perhaps he didn't.

He insisted they remain friends so he could console himself with the knowledge she was still breathing, but suddenly he broke that promise and disappeared. Gone. Just like that. No hint that he was done. Just gone as if he never existed. He was out of her life as though she never meant a thing. Despite all promises on both sides all that was left was the day in and day out torturous thoughts. The smarmy phone taunted her. No text. No calls. No goodbye. No closure. An endless stream of waiting, wishing, and hoping he would contact her.

Couldn't she find someone willing to play Dr. Frankenstein and meddle with her mind? She ached for those memories to be erased. She wasn't asking for a lot, just about four months worth of proclamations of love, of shared desires, of feeling as though someone actually understood her.  If Clementine could do it in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, why couldn't she? She would change her name to Lacuna, move somewhere else, and never have to ache again for what would never be.