Dance, dance

Ahh... So, it's finally over. That whole episode of thinking of you. Or wallowing in the memory of you. Either one. Haha. Anyway. It comes once in a while, no matter how un-screwed up and happy I am at that particular moment. It just does. Unbidden. And then, unwilling to leave. Try as I might, the tears flow uninvited. In those few moments, or days, I should say, everything of my perfectly re-structured life is turned topsy-turvy again. I hate it when that happens. Truly. It just shows that I'm a weak little creature, not even able to control her own emotions, let alone her over-active imagination.
During those bleak days, I think about many things; mainly you. How we used to be, as unhappy as we were and as miserable as you made me. How I tried and tried, in vain, to make things right again. How getting a simple text from you, asking what I'm up to, could lend me a smile that would last the entire day and put my head in the clouds. How things fell apart; rudely, abruptly. How you moved on.

You moved on.

That is when the actual reality sinks in. Like a bucket of cold water being dumped over your head while you're sleeping, faraway dreaming. A good dream, to top it. But anyway, the truth hurts. It always has. I knew this would happen. It was inevitable. Everyone has needs, but only ever-so-few set out to fulfill it. But you did. And I have no right nor am I in any position to hold it against you.
It's not like you're the only thing I ever think about. At one point in my life, I was guilty of it. That is the truth. I thought of you as I woke up, as I was going about my daily business, as I was eating, bathing, shopping, reading, brushing my teeth, lacing my sneakers, as I was going to sleep. You were always in my dreams. Always.
 But now, you're just a distant memory. Vague. Just another item in my vast catalogue. All those feelings that were so raw and naked are just now fantasms that I sometimes think that I made up. Laughable now, a year ago I would have burnt myself at the stake for a blasphemy charge.
I don't love you anymore. Or at least I think I don't. But I do. I think. I don't know what I think anymore or what I should be thinking.
Whose keeping track, anyway?
If you ever stumbled across this, you'd probably be thinking of what a loser I am, to be still harping about you almost a year on. Well, I am. Didn't you always think of me in that light?
Right now, in this particular moment, it's starting again. My chest is tightening and I'm fighting back the non-existent tears that's welling up in my eyes. Pathetic, I know. But then again, I am. It will never change. Funny how she said that she looks up to me. I'm actually a role model to her. Can you imagine that? How can she idolize someone who is a total wreck? Maybe I'm just a damn good actress. I wouldn't know. Being poker-faced IS one of my best traits.
I was able to bury the memory of you deep beneath the multiple layers of my slowly-healing heart, sweep it under the consciousness of my mind and pushed it into the far reaches of my awareness, ignoring it. It lay dormant for these past few months, I was pretty sure I was over you. That I AM over you. But that phone call brutally thrust the ugly truth in my face : IT WAS A LIE.
The sound of your voice was like a hot knife through the flesh. I missed you so much. Acknowledging it is one thing, admitting it is another. I cried my eyes out as soon as I hung up.
Now, I'm at a divergence in a path. One says that I'm missing you; another mocking me, viciously whispering in my ears that I'm fine and perfectly in control. Decisions, decisions. I could choose one and tell everybody else a conveniently different story. 
If only they all knew how misery loved me.