nueve meses

In the amount of time it takes for new life to begin, I'm still trying to forget the one that existed before this. The one I knew every day for three years. And all the miles and seconds in the world that pass by can't erase each now meaningless memory. Truth be told I found a home in you, and perhaps I should be grateful for that. I read a novel about a girl in hell who said her handicap was thinking. Well, then I suppose mine is feeling.

I think I've been fooling myself by saying it hasn't gotten easier. It obviously has. Some days I forget it ever happened. But then there are those days. Those days like today where the universe decides it is time to relive it, and remember each instance that brought me to where I am today. I can picture every last memory that I wish I never had, and it consumes me so much sometimes that it gets hard to breathe.

And then I get a butt-dial and I am so entirely grateful that I can forget for only a moment that I was ever hurt.

(It is freezing. I ate soup earlier. I burnt my tongue. Soup is so delicious.)
(Some of the most foul things I've ever heard have come from my stepdad's mouth when he's playing Madden alone in his upstairs bedroom.)