Closure.

Closure.
feeling: purged

An unexpected phonecall roused me from sleep. We've had similar conversations, but this time, she knew.

Knowing that she felt the loss shook my core, but hearing that she misses me crumbled me. As I struggled to keep my voice even, all I could think of was the view from your kitchen window.

It was that particular memory that ignited dormant tears, and I lay on the couch for an awfully long time, indulging the pain and accepting the loss. No more Grey's Anatomy this time around to distract the ache. It was an anesthesia-free session where I cleaned up the old wound and stitched it up.

It's funny. Of all the memories we shared, all I could think of was your kitchen window.

I'm not gonna be a jaded cynic and proclaim how I'm never gonna date again, or how I will never believe in love. Because I do. Such exclamations are overdramatic, and I don't do dramatic.

Closure isn't pain-free, but I think I dealt with it okay. I think it's okay to cry, and it's okay to wallow, just a little, in heartache.

But I also believe in picking myself up, brushing off the dust, and moving forward in life. I'm ready.