|90| the day after

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I remember the day after you left in vivid detail. I wore my prettiest dress, I let my hair down. I smiled into the mirror and took a photo. I went to a bird sanctuary and read a book there. I called up my friend I hadn't spoken to in a while. I lost the battle by the time night rolled in; I gave in into the tears.

I remember the day after you left. I hugged myself till I was out of breath because nothing could ever occupy the void you left, not even all the water in my eyes (and I found that impossible to believe. There was so much water. It poured for months).

I remember the day after you left. I thought I'd never be this happy ever again. I cursed the world for being so unfair, for keeping all this happiness out of reach my entire life, then taking it away before I even got used to it.

I remember the day after you left in vivid detail. The days that followed it are hazier. I remember sleeping a lot. Sleep was the only time thoughts of you wouldn't touch me; it was the only weapon I had against you. And I remember crying.

I remember the day after you left my head (mostly left; there's still some part of you that remains, there will always be). I felt relief. I recovered pieces of myself I thought I'd lost forever. I decided I'll never put myself through that pain again.

I remember the day you came back. It had been months since the day you left. I looked at you, only to find face of a stranger who was strangely so familiar. I remember loving the warmth of the familiarity. I remember hating the way we'd both changed. I tried to relearn you. I thought I can't survive losing you again.

I remember the day after you left again, for good this time. I wore my best dress, I let my hair down. I didn't take a photo this time; my thoughts didn't revolve around your thoughts of me anymore. I cried by the time night rolled in. I felt so lost.

I remember the day I found myself again. I laughed and felt like just another clichè. I opened my phone and wrote this as a promise to myself: never again.

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