~ chapter 01 ~

TRIGGER WARNING : mentions of domestic violence, breakup, abandonment, physical aggression, childhood trauma)

________

° Julia °

Have you ever felt like, it was just you and your memories and nothing else felt real in the entire world?

My mom always used to say, that she felt that way about, her and dad. She would reminisce the old memories of 'them' that she would say was lost in a timeline that cannot be accessed.

Not anymore.

The moment where you feel like you only feel love for the person they were, not actually the person in front of you.

Not anymore.

I guess, I was having one of those moments. I guess, I've been having that moment for over a year now. Can a moment even last that long?

Well, in my case it did. Until I opened my eyes, last week.

It all snapped. And here I was, after 2 months of my breakup.

He lives in the apartment, which is exactly in front of mine. Not to give you the impression, that I am a creep. Because if you take my binocular and stand in my balcony, exactly where I'm standing now, you can see his. He comes out sometimes on his balcony. My routine allows me to watch the night sky, and it's more clearer with my pair of binoculars. And as I watch the stars, I sometimes get a peek at him. Accidentally, of course.

Not longer than a few seconds though.

I don't want to feel like I'm a stalker.

But, those few seconds brings on the 'moment' again.

Where there's just memories from the past.

...

And the weird part is, it doesn't hurt that he's not with me anymore.

If anything, I'm quite relieved he's not. What makes me feel uneasy, is that I tried to hold on to that long gone relationship, even when I had lost all hope, all feelings. Even though, I knew that I cherished the past memories, that past 'us' more than the present 'us'. That I stretched it so far, that there was nothing left to hold on to anymore.

I let it go, sure I broke it off.

But I would be deceiving myself if I say I have let go of the regret, of the anger, not for him but for myself. I always feel like I was pathetic to try so hard, when I knew the truth in my heart, when the voice inside me told me that 'you don't have to keep it for the sake of others. Let it go.' But, being the person I am, I've always thought about the people around me, more than I thought about what I wanted.

My mother liked him, so did my friends.

My mother had told me,

"Relationships are like that. You feel like it's the best thing in the world. You do that for a few months, and then it goes away. You should compromise. Everyone does."

I wanted to ask her,

"You did that. You compromised so much. You and dad both. You fought and fought, hurt each other and me, just to keep it going. You said you were compromising for me. Yet, you didn't even care if I was there. I was left alone. All you did was lie, to yourself and to me. Where did that get you?"

but I had decided to keep my mouth shut about that.

I didn't want memories from my childhood. It had taken every ounce of me to let go of those. The toughest battle I ever fought. It's not easy for an 8y/o to go through that. Parents fighting and fighting, hurting each other. There's not much you can do as a child, except watching all of it.... helplessly. Praying for them to stop. But afraid to say it out loud, because you might get hurt and get pulled in, into that pit of rage and violence. All you can do is either watch or runaway. It was always the former for me, but I did choose the latter, once. And it changed my life....

...

I hear people talking loudly, down in the parking area and it pulls me out of my own personal hell. My mind.

My thoughts never had a barrier on them, just like they're running everywhere right now.

I tighten my grip on the broken wrist watch.

It was a gift from him.

It broke the day, we broke up. He had pushed my hand away. It flew across the room, hit the wall and broke.

It was my good luck charm. At least I liked to think so.

Nothing good did ever happen with it though.

I guess it was just another excuse to feel like there was still something to hold on to.

Now that it's over, I hold on to it again, not sure what excuse I give myself this time.

This time, I hold on to it not as an excuse for compromising, but as an excuse that I'm honoring my efforts.

The voice tells me that it's regret, but I push it down.

So deep that I choke it in.