Plain Jane.

Lately, the things I try to forget have been creeping into my nothing space. You know, the space your mind goes when you're thinking of nothing in particular? There. I was driving today and as my hand rested on the gear shift and I thought about another time when my hand fell there. And he grabbed it. Lifting my hand to his lips he kissed it and held it in his. As the memory crept into my nothing space, I could feel the familiar salty taste of nausea in my mouth. And I held my breath for a moment wondering if I should continue letting myself remember or push the thought out of my mind. I remembered.

It feels overwhelming. If I let myself think of all it meant and all it means it feels as though someone squeezed all the life out of me. My lungs feel wrung out and empty and my eyes wide in panic and I search listlessly for my next source of oxygen.

And it hurts worst of all because of everything I thought it was but wasn't. Isn't that how it always is? We leap from the balcony of our own expectations into the jagged abyss of disappointment. If I am honest, I think it broke me far more than I allow myself admit. If I am honest... But I do not allow myself to be. Because if I feel it, even a little bit my entire body hurts. The tears flood my eyes and cloud my vision, and even more so my faith. I would have loved you. Forever.

I would rather feel it as I sleep. Cry my tears subconsciously and let my fingers bleed as I pick up the pieces of my mirror. I am stronger there. I can lose it there. But here I am fragile and busy; I do not have time to feel how cold I truly am.