It’s weird how things hit you when you least expect them to. I thought I was doing okay after the other night’s marathon crying session (waking up on Saturday morning with two swollen eyes) and then, today, on the bus, listening to Arcade Fire and tears start streaming down my face. So there I am, with Neon Bible belting into my ears and it takes all my willpower not to start sobbing into the shoulder of the poor old lady who decides to sit next to me.
What saddens me most now is that I can no longer listen to certain bands without thinking of him. Damien Rice is a no go because it reminds me of the first festival I went to with him when the sun shone and I felt like I was finally getting a chance to be myself. Arcade Fire because they played the last night of the festival, when fireworks went off in the sky and he kissed me hard on the lips, Beirut, a band he introduced me to who were, for a long time, the soundtrack to my daily commute to work, Prinzehorn Dance School, another ‘him’ band we saw at what was the best festival I’ve ever been to…sounds and songs and feelings that I need to slowly reintroduce into my life.
I know I need to move on. Enough people have told me this enough times. The only thing that’s keeping me from telling him the truth about the way I feel is my doubt that he feels the same. And as much as I like him, I have some pride.
I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.
Currently, I am thinking Tennyson is a moron.
Clarke x
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