Like a snack from your childhood, you crave for the scent.
You miss the voice you feel a twinge of pain inside you.
Because these little things are thorns.
Tim Mossholder
They do not hurt you that much but they prick you albeit lightly, still directly in the heart.
And another on a newly downloaded app on your phone, Tinder.
Hello, they both say.
Tim Mossholder
You visit their profiles.
Actually, quite interesting.
But you wont send a reply to either of them you never did.
Youre at the library.
Cute, your mind immediately tells you.
This particular person smiles at you.
But you wont smile back you never did.
Then youll think, Maybe Im not ready yet.Its always the little thingsthat make you realize the bigger ones.
But this is where the uncertainly lies.
This is where you question yourself.
Have I really moved on?
If I did, then why do our memories come back whenever I hear your name?
Why does the smell of your perfume still lingers in my nose?
Why does a teardrop fall when I hear your voice in a mere video I find online?
And lets say I have moved on, am I really ready to fall in love again?
If I am, then why do I push away every single person that tries to enter my life?
Maybe no one whos ever truly loved could completely move on from someone.
Because feelings sometimes betray.
Because remnants will always be there.
The places youve been to.
The songs you once both loved.
So youll tell yourself to just let things be.
That even if it feels like its not alright, it will be alright.
To let the wounds be healed by time, and let the scars you received be a reminder.
That youve been hurt.
That somehow, youve healed.
So this time, whenever your heart betrays you by your memories, this is what youll do.
Its 3am and youre about to fall asleep.
As a habit you check your phone and opens Facebook.
You like several of your friends posts.
You open a few saved pages.
Then you go to the apps On This Day feature.
Two years ago you celebrated your one-year anniversary with him.
You wouldve been celebrating your second year today if you hadnt broken up.
You have two choices: you wallow in your own pain or reminisce.
You continue to scroll and see more posts from two years ago.
A photo of his letter you recently burned.
A photo of your breakfast.
A photo of you and him.
Bittersweet, I know.
But because you owe it to yourself, you give a shot to smile.
The addictive desire to be in love always remain.
There is a part in each of us that craves for both physical and emotional attention.
Someone who understands and accepts us, even though there are times that we cant even accept ourselves.
Someone who is our home in both sunny and stormy days in our hearts.
And maybe, just maybe, the uncertainty itself is the answer.
The fact that youre doubting your readiness means you arent ready yet.
Because we are all broken anyway and thats okay.
Instead, this is what youll do.
You will love yourself.
You will love yourself so much until that love overflows you have to share it to someone else.
You will be a work in progress.
Its been a year and you come back to the bookstore.
A familiar book lays on top of a table.
A caramel macchiato, your favorite, beside it.
You walk ahead and take a book you like.
Hello, he says.
Hi, you reply.
