We drove to the Harbour Bridge to look at pretty lights and I had to admit, they made me feel a little better, but I still didn’t know what to say. You were the one who taught me how words can complicate and create ambiguities. I was afraid of slipping up and making him realise something was very, very wrong with me.
I decided to play all the songs you ruined for me, so that next time I hear them I will think of him instead of you. I hoped to remember how he tried to make me laugh when all you did was make me cry. I wanted to remember the warmth of his presence and how kindness seeped through when you only ever showed me malice. I wondered how he’d feel if he knew how grateful I was that he didn’t try to kiss me. I didn’t want him to kiss me when I was busy hating you, hating all the things you didn’t do for me.
I wish you would leave me alone so I could move on and not panic when someone new tries to hold my hand. But your ghosts are so cruel and now I’m exhausted after cutting out my daily dose of caffeine because every cup of coffee tastes like you. Then our song came on and it knocked the wind right out of me. The image of us lounging together while you played the ukelele and sang for me was too painfully clear, I could hear every word. I saw how happy we were and I couldn’t breathe the entire way home.