I’d lie to myself the same way I’d lie to my friends.
To make them feel better during their moments of suffering. I couldn’t assuage their grief, but I could inspire courage in them to move on…
Help them ease the pain clouding their every detrimental feelings.
So I lied to myself like I had lied to them-
“It will be better, you are strong enough to withstand this”
Even though I knew very well, it doesn’t get better. It will get worse. There will come a time where I will cry longer and harder than I have now, and that’s okay. Because I would rather be hurt, cry, and eventually move on, than live through anymore toxic days without a modicum of change.
..and I’ll keep lying to myself, till things actually get better.
The phrase, “Fake it till you make it” never felt truer.
I was an optimistic fool each time I fell in love with you…thinking this time now that we’re older, it’ll be different.
Telling myself, this time I’m not just a convenience. You’re back in my life again because you wanted us back together.
Tricking my mind to believing this time you’ll actually stay.
Optimistic fool was right because when I blinked, you were gone again.
An excerpt I had jotted down a couple years back..
I’ve had no motivation to write.
It started to hurt so I used words as remedy,
Then the pain just went away…the grip I had on my pen loosened.
All my tears had dried.
Rain came, then hurricane.
I finally woke up and understood that happiness doesn’t come with others- it starts with the self.
I’ve said this before but writing has really become a great channel to alleviate any kind of pain you’re going through. Though time heals most wounds is the usual manta, I find that spilling words onto pages can bring this sense of lightness into your soul. It helps you pour your feels out and creates this realm of where you can keep it to yourself or share it with others without verbally needing to speak of it. Sure, there are moments I find tears welling but for the most part, it’s become much easier to translate my pain into the written word than the spoken suffering. Your throat tightens, your eyes get hot, and your chest starts to implode with fear you’ll start crying again. When that happens, remember to write: write about something happy- describe it in the most colorful of words or write about your pain in order to sort out why you are upset. Leave the anger there, and realize you’ll never get the next 60 seconds back, so would you rather spend it angry or happy?