I never thought I was still haunted
by memories of the one that got away. The thought of him has not arise since,
considering that it’s been nearly half a decade since he departed from my life.
I thought I gave myself a closure to the story. Little did I know that when I
am trying to find the answers to my seemingly numb heart, you were still the
reason why I never find the courage to love again.
I met you in my dream the night
before, I saw you walk pass on a random street and I almost couldn’t recognize
you. I was contemplating whether to walk up to you, and I got too anxious that
I was awaken by myself. I guess my
subconscious never accepted the closure I’ve given for myself. It still never
accept the fact that closure should be given an explanation by him.
I guess when people use the the term
closure in real life, they’re talking
more along the lines of an apology, and explanation, or an after-the-fact
conversation to hash out where things went wrong and why. Those events are
supposed to bring us closer to the emotional holy grail that is closure. It’s
like wrapping up months or years or decades in a box and locking it up deep
inside the back of our mind.
But I guess anyone who has been left
in the middle of the story know that you will never really truly get over it.
We might learn to move on, but the old love wound lives just under the skin,
waiting for the tiniest emotional paper cut to send it oozing blood all over
again.