In every bit of of the broken pieces of my heart.
I took out the camera tonight because I knew I only had enough memory in it for a few more pictures. It’s my friend’s birthday this weekend, and we are planning on going to Vegas with a few of the closest buddies. I wanted to make room in my memory for that.
Which means, I have to erase over 90 pictures of US.
I guess in the end, you start thinking about the beginning.
Looking back…man, we were so happy. Not just the smile-for-the-camera kind of happy, but really, really God-I-can’t-believe-I’ve-got-you kind of happy.
How did we lose that? How did big smiles like sunshine become brittle and eventually shatter? I will walk away from this relationship always wondering what happened, never really being able to put a finger on it.
In those dark moments when I will allow myself to tap back into that part of me where I locked away all the hopes and dreams I had for this relationship…I will always ask myself why? and I will never really get an answer.
All I have are these pictures of shiny happy memories and an end that somehow never really fit with the beginning.
“I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken — and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.”
While deleting pictures, I never thought twice about deleting everything else…BUT HIM. But Us. I still can’t let go. I look at those pictures, I remember his face, his eyes, his smile…I remember the quirks, the expressions, the little spots I used to run a finger across: an eyebrow, his nose, an earlobe.
And I know that I can’t ever piece back the broken pieces, just remember the moments when my heart was still whole.
And yet, when I fall so low I wish that I could just forget. I wish I could cast a spell and erase those memories because they hurt. I want to tear photographs to pieces and shatter picture frames, I want to press delete forever…I wish it were all just a dream and I can pretend none of it was ever real…that none of it ever really mattered in my life. Then maybe my life as it is now won’t feel so empty.
Better to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there.