Hey all, so this post is a bit more somber than my others, I generally aim for humour or sarcasm, but this piece's inspiration was the memories which we attach to certain objects. I thought about all the things that bring good memories, but then there are always objects that bring up sad and painful memories, so I decided to break routine, and go down the break-up route for this one. Sorry if it's really depressing, let me know what you think in the comments if you like :)
The times I've been in this room. How often I've seen everything in here and smiled, because it's just the way we always wanted it.
It's over now. All of it. There were far more things in here an hour ago, more things still yesterday. I can't look around now without thinking of the awkward, pained glances at each other, through our eyes' corners; each pretending we're fine, but we're not. I'm not. It's amazing to me how quickly someone can change their mind.
I've seen him change his mind before; even smiled at it. The colour of the paint in the living room seemed like a huge deal, and so infuriating that he'd changed his mind, oh so many times. But now, it's so trivial. I always expected him to change his mind over the colour of the curtains, whether to have steak, chicken or fish; but I never expected him to change his mind over me.
I stand in the centre of the room which we decorated together - the wood floors, the paint, the curtains; which turned out to be mocha, and not blue.
I don't feel empty because he's moved out everything that was his, I feel empty because I've been left with shells and shadows of memories, and even without all of his possessions - he's everywhere. The photos, the fruit bowl, the paintings, and this vase I'm holding. We bought this vase in Antigua, I spotted it first, and he adored it. It was only once we got it home he realised it was completely the wrong colour.
I'm going over all of this in my head, and all of a sudden, the vase, like me is shattered. Broken. In tiny little pieces all over the ground.
I feel an odd mixture of emotions; I feel like the breaking of the vase was some sort of therapy, I feel ashamed that I've scuffed the floor we ended up paying so much for. I feel livid, because I never thought I was this disposable. I feel desperate and desolate. I feel like it's nice to see that something is as fragile as me. I think it'll be good for me to clear it up, because that will at least give me something to do for a while.
In a single moment, I understand the relief he must have felt when he whispered 'it's over', but it doesn't make it any easier on me. I've destroyed something which was, moments ago, so precious to me. The rage has subsided and left me numb.
I'm standing still in the middle of scattered and broken memories. Looking at the fragments of one of the last things which ties me to him. I wish I hadn't broken it; I wish he hadn't broken me.
The love of my life is gone.
Sorry if that made your day sad, just so I don't feel like I've ruined your life, Here's a Gif of a cat putting on a rabbit hat.
Have a happy weekend :)
Thanks for reading :) Laura