fragments

I knew since recent events that I would have a few rifts. As I sit on my bed once more watching the sun set on a summer night I know that today has brought a rift with it. It can sometimes take the smallest thing, even if it’s a picture I didn’t mean to see, someone who looks like him, or mentions of things that I associate with him. It sounds obsessive, but I’ve come to realise that all it is is little fragments that have been left behind from something that was so insignificant to him. Fragments being just that. They’ve stayed in my head, and can remain untouched for several minutes and hours. It takes the smallest thing for them to pop up, however frequent that may be. I’m just not sure that chapter is shut yet. The chapter that consumed my life for so many months. And when I sat looking at him after the incident happened, just sitting with his back to the wall, not even looking at me in the eye, I came to realise that that moment was all my ever so slightly younger self had ever wanted for so long. Just to be in his presence. And here it was. I almost had to blink twice. All I had known at that moment was that he wasn’t going to leave my memory for a very long time.

I remember waiting for my train back home. Looking up at the everchanging train boards waiting for my platform number to appear so I could sit in an ugly train seat with a dying phone just thinking and processing everything that had happened. All I remember was crying for several hours, listening to the same three songs on repeat and then lying in my own bed several hours later, thinking. Until I fell asleep. I can’t remember if I cried. It’s these tiny fragments I remember. I’ve been both blessed and cursed with a terrifyingly good memory.

I don’t know where I can go from this point. It’s not as if he is just some person who I’ve had a tiny crush on for a while and then it’s faded away afterwards. It’s already faded a small amount, but I think a tiny small part of me finds it hard or doesn’t want to move on. What can I say to that part of me? He was my first (almost) everything. Seeing somebody in such a light, a light in which you see them as an opening to so many things. That’s hard to forget.

I can say that it’s toxic, I can say that it’s something that is holding me back, which I recognise. But it’s all I’ve ever known. Sometimes, it’s not the fragments that are the problem, it’s the way that you see them.