Recovery. The tears have stopped falling, my heart is beating in defiance to the rhythm of life again. Normality. They refuse to well up at the romance of a movie, the sadness of a song, the bittersweet whisper in a deafening crowd. I sweetly remember the times now when your name would make me blush, my heart would skip a beat and leap
into the heavens…or rather the pits of hell. My eyes focused on no-one except you, my words were tailored to impress…you. Instead of blushing at your name, it is now not said. It is thought of, I admit- but not dressed up in beauty the way it once was. It is now associated with deceit, mistrust, and regret. I do love you. But now I hate you too. Which is why I miss crying at movies, because now I feel anger. I miss smiling at kisses. Because now I feel sick. I miss listening to Whitney and I’ve gone back to Iggy , and I know it’s silly but these things make a difference.