The Girl Who Moved On

I deleted his number then I changed mine.

I deactivated all my social media accounts.

I never ask our common friends about his whereabouts anymore.

I didn’t dare to look back. I dared to take a step forward instead.

I don’t even care whenever someone mentions his name because it became foreign to my ears.

I didn’t return the things he gave me — I burned them. All the letters, cards, stuff toys, even the petals of all the flowers he gave me which I carefully kept in a bottle. I got rid of them all.

I laugh with my friends like the way I usually do, while exchanging funny stories and jokes with them.

My world revolved like the way it normally did.

And I liked it better.

Because all I have to care about now is my own life, my career, my family, and my friends.

No complications, no pain, no heartbreaks but only good and bad days.

I woke up at 6 am.

I stood in front of my mirror.

I smiled and greeted the girl looking back at me a good morning.

Then I proceeded with my morning rituals, cooked bacon and eggs and made my coffee. I ate not in haste, but in a slow, careful manner. I wanted to enjoy my first breakfast alone after a long time. It’s the first day of me being alone since I already moved out from our home to rent an apartment nearer to my workplace. I  turned the  radio on and sang like I’m some sort of a rockstar.

It felt free. It felt fresh. It felt me.

I took a bath while dancing as the water from the shower meet my bathroom tiles and produced the beat I needed.

I chose a denim pencil skirt and white tank top to wear for this day.

A little bit of lipgloss and fresh powder, with my mascara on and tada! I’m off to go.

At work, I did all my tasks as fast and efficient as possible. I was practically smiling the whole day. I was humming a happy tune while encoding some documents my boss gave me. My workmates see me as a bubbly girl and I let them think of me that way.

I had such a perfect day.

I bid my workmates goodbye and hailed a taxi when I realized no one’s gonna pick me up anymore.

I looked outside the car window and enjoyed the view outside until my smile vanished at the sight of that place.

I got out of the car, paid my bill, and slowly walked towards that familiar place. My feet were heavy, and I could hear every footsteps I did.

The familiar scent of freshwater reached my senses as the river flowed below this bridge.

I felt the cold railings beneath my hands as a small smile crossed my lips. The evening air caressed my cheeks like it’s some sort of unspoken words of welcome.

A girl about my age suddenly stood beside me and held onto the railings like the way I did.

The only difference was that she’s crying hard, with smeared lipstick and mascara. She was mumbling words I could hardly understand. I looked away when she caught me staring. It was so rude of me, I know. So I turned away and started to walk away.

“Hey, are you going to jump off from this bridge?” Someone asked from behind.

Just to make sure he’s not referring to me, I turned my head to his direction.

He was talking to the girl I saw.

“So? Who cares if I do?” She asked, anger evident in her voice.

He looked lost at her question.

“Well, I don’t know one. Why don’t you try to jump so we could find out?” The boy shrugged.

The girl burst out laughing while the boy stayed at his ground, confused with her reaction.

“That’s the funniest line I’ve heard for today!” she laughed again, while wiping her tears.

My eyes were suddenly filled with tears until the two people in front of me became blurry. Their voices distant, until I could hear nothing but my own cries. It was me when I first met him. Here I am, pretending that everything’s just fine. Yet one look at this place brought all the memories back. Our first encounter. First date. First hug. First kiss. And my first heartbreak. All of them came back as if they’re too fresh to forget. He taught me how to live when I wanted to end my life. But then he became the reason I am dead inside now.

It’s been six months. Six months of pretense. Six months of empty feeling. Six months without him.

When he told me he didn’t love me anymore like he used to, I didn’t cry. I didn’t want him to know I was dying inside. I iust nodded and turned away. He didn’t even ran after me. He just let me go.

They say that time heals, but I guess not all things heal no matter how long it had passed. Sometimes, you just learn how to be familiar with the pain. You learn to fake every smile to let the world know that you’re okay. That you don’t need anyone to make you smile, or to check on you when you’re too engrossed with your job that you forget to eat or sleep, or somebody to walk you home when it’s late.

I guess some things aren’t supposed to be forgotten. And some feelings just won’t go. They would haunt the shit out of you. And I know I won’t be fine anymore. But somehow I can be okay. I hope.

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