Rebuilding yourself after it’s over is hard.
Not legally married, but assuming all the responsibilities of a wife.
People don’t understand what it’s like.
They try and offer comfort,
How do you comfort someone who just had her whole life scrambled into pieces?
How do you rebuilt an identity when the biggest part of you
no longer is with you?
I know a lot about having to rebuild youself.
Waking the day after the storm,
Still dialing his number, that you so gracefully memorised ages ago.
How do you eat the same breakfast that you made him every morning for the past five years?
How do you sleep in a bed knowing his body is no longer there to press your cold feet against his warm surface.
How do you have movie nights after work, and beg him to pop the popcorn while you open the bottle of wine?
How do you stare at your reflexion the same mirror you brushed your teeth alongside him?
You skip breakfast every morning.
You sleep with socks on and cuddled up to a pillow.
You no longer like popcorn, and the wine bottle is replaced with hot chocolate with six marshmallows and low-fat whipped cream.
You move to a new apartment. Smaller, but more you.
Avoiding the thoughts of him completely
Until one day, the thought of him no longer matters.
Because one day,
On a sunday morning, you will wake up at the crack of dawn
See the way the sunrays illuminate your kitchen
And you will wonder if your tiny apartment has always been this beautiful.
And only then, after all these years, you will realize
It was you.
It was never about him, or them.
My love, the story was always about you.