On different days throughout the years, I’ll look into the mirror and hardly recognize myself. I think “Who is that?” and panic only to realize that it’s only me albeit different. Throughout the day I have this image in my head of a person. The image isn’t clear, but I recognize their outline, and it’s someone I haven’t seen or heard from in a long time. As the image becomes clearer, my body slowly starts to shut down. A pit in starts to form in my stomach and my chest starts to hurt. I feel as if I’m starting to rapidly decay though that isn’t the case. My heart speaks to me and asks, “Do you remember them?” Suddenly a floodgate filled with memories fill my mind. I remember them…
I remember.
I remember the late nights spent talking to each other making jokes and telling stories from our past. I remember our calls and how much fun we had losing track of time. I remember how much we would help each other and how much we cared for one another. I remember everything… and now… my body is washed over with a longing to go back and relive those moments in time just to be with them again. Now for the day or so, I carry the weight of our past together. I do not think you do the same, but I’ll never know. The music I listened to around the time we spent together has sounded different ever since. Every time I listen it pulls me back to those moments, and memories resurface. I remember exactly where I was and what I had been doing. The lyrics I sing carry remnants of you as I’ve etched your memory into these melodies. Perhaps, it’s the least I can do now that you’re gone. The songs have always sounded the same, but they’ve held a different meaning since you’ve been gone.
With these memories flowing through me, I understood why I looked so different today. An old version of myself has resurfaced, one that I no longer agree with. An old feeling of love has decided to show itself again to remind me of what could have been. With the two manifesting themselves once again I have no choice but to let them do what they must until they flow out of my system. In the meantime, I grapple with the idea of moving on, asking myself if I ever truly moved on and whether I allowed myself to let go. It’s funny how often I change with the passing seasons over the years, yet my leaves have had a hard time falling. Gradually they do and new leaves grow, but not without struggle. And to the leaves that do fall, I ask myself every time, why must I pick them up and carry them with me again? There’s a hope I may reattach them, but I suppose I was never able to fully admit that to myself. Despite that, I carry and cherish a specific singular leaf, and it’s just enough to keep me content.
By the time this feeling has left my body, I’m left looking back at my reflection and recognizing myself once again. The songs I sing are happier though still riddled with your memory, but not as prominent. The leaves I’ve picked up and held close, barring the one leaf, are tossed into a bag and thrown away as I shouldn’t be carrying anymore than I have to. As well as allowing the rest of my fallen leaves to be swept away by the flow of time. Old selves and old feelings of love are just that: Old and in the past. Those past feelings temporarily blindsided me, but I know at least that with each passing year, the pedestal I put you on continues to lose its structure. I’ll always have you in my heart and cherish our memories. I’ll never forget you, but I will continue moving forward with out without you.
I promise.
