subject line: you will run again

 
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Portland, OR

No one ever tells you about the abruptness. The way you’re still moving ahead, as he’s wildly slamming on the brakes. No one likes to tell you about the fact that your last kiss is going to be almost impossible to remember. And that you wish you had more warning so you could make it worth it. And savor it. But instead, you can barely remember his blue eyes watching your lips, and the way his dimple looks as he smiles.

No one explains to you how hard it is to go back to your “places” again. Some one recommends the cute bar up on the hill, and all you can do is sadly nod, and pretend you and him haven’t spent all your Mondays there. No one told me how shitty it would feel to secretly hope he’ll walk in. Or show up at your door. Or be waiting outside of your class, or after your shift. I’m not sure why I thought he’d do that now. Suddenly. But sometimes I hoped he would. I still hope he will.

No here I sit. In a coffee shop he’s never been to. I can’t go to my other 3 standbys—they’re haunted by the ghost of what we once were. So I chose this one. It’s new. And clean. And safe. And I think I hate it.

Besides all of this, it’s clear that no one tells you how exhausted you’ll be when all is said and done. My friend sent me a letter once. Many heartbreaks ago, when I was much younger and a bit more wide-eyed. Her words are still with me, 5 years later. I hold them closely as I sit in this coffee shop, watching the sun dip behind the trees.

”This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something. When things get dark and the climb gets steep, know that you have done something that a lot of people have only dreamed of—you have loved. Completely and honestly. The pain is like the soreness of muscles after a race. You will ache, but you finished the race.

You ran as hard as you could, as long as you could. And after some stretching, you will run again”.