“Memories are worse than bullets. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

Just when I feel like I am strong, just when I feel like I am over it, over him, my mind is assaulted with memories. Rapid fire visuals of moments spent with him scroll through my brain and there is no switch for me to turn off this automatic reel of our relationship that continuously plays and plays. I close my eyes and try to think of pleasant thoughts, of a recent sunrise or sunset, of a show that made me laugh, or even a chore that I have to accomplish. I try to think of anything so that I may forget, but the harder I try to escape, the memories of him shoot at me more quickly, piercing me in my chest and in my heart.

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The intrusive thoughts are hard to evade, and once I am hit, it deploys itself all over my body. Memories are like poison, flowing through my bloodstream, infecting every part of me. I hold myself and brace my stomach, as though I am preparing to be kicked in my abdomen. I lick my lips and taste the bitterness of how our relationship ended. I become thirsty and drink water, but it is never enough to drown out my longing for what could have been, how it should have been. I swim in my thoughts instead and though not enough to drown, it is just enough that I am left gasping for air to fill my lungs.

The memories burn. As I replay past times in my head, my skin feels like it is on fire, but I am shivering. I hate myself for pining for someone who did not exist. I long for the version of him that I had hoped he would become, not the person who he really was.