"You can't start the next chapter of your life, if you keep re-reading the last one."

Anonymous

Ever had an emotional attachment to an inanimate object? Could be anything. A teddy bear you (still) cuddle with. A photo album. A trophy. Anything. Now imagine it's snatched away from you. Your dog decided to use the teddy bear as a chew toy. You spilled water on the photo album. Your brother knocks the trophy off the shelf.

Now what do you do?

You're quite inevitably saddened. Your first reaction might not be something to be proud of. First, you try to slowly absorb what actually has happened, and let it sink in. As soon as it sinks in, you react. You shout, you scream, you cry. Might even be depressed for a while. But then, you'll move on. You might buy a new teddy bear. Might dig up the old film reels and get the photos reprinted. May just go out and win some other competition. But you make sure your teddy bear is off limits to your dog. Your award is now placed on a lower shelf.

After a while, it's okay. Everything's back to normal. Yes, these replacements, are obviously mere shadows of the things they're replacing, but nevertheless, they're doing their job just fine- replacing.

Summarizing: you absorb, you react, then you replace, and you make sure you don't repeat the mistake; you take precautions, and ultimately, give it time.

Now imagine a similar situation with people who meant the world to you.

A best friend. A lover. A sibling.

You betrayed someone; You took someone for granted ; You hurt someone's feelings irreparably.

Regardless, the damage is done. Everything's shattered. There's a finality to it. No making amends.

What do you do now?

Obviously, objects and people are extremely different.

Yet, you follow a similar pattern.

  • You absorb.

You notice the wound for the first time.
You let it sink in. You try to wrap your mind around the fact that this person isn't a part of your life anymore, and then..

  • You react.

The blood flows, and the wound stings. You try to close the wound, to lick it close. It fails.
You either are an exceptionally emotionally secure person, who takes it in their stride, or you're more human than that, and you break down.
You repent. You regret. The guilt overwhelms you. You try to make things better. But it's like trying to glue a broken vase together. Even if you're successful in fixing things, the marks always remain. A sour reminder. You move to the next step.

  • You replace.

The blood stops flowing, but the pain is still fresh. You acquire the required tools, dress the wound and tie a bandage around it.
You try talking to new people. You try flirting with new people. In moments of desperation, You try to go back to them. You make a fool out of yourself. You might even start anew, picking up all the pieces and reassembling them in a completely new environment; a clean slate. Yet, you feel empty. No matter how much you do. There's a numbness instilled in you.

  • You give it time.

You still poke around the bandage sometimes. But you patiently wait, and finally the designated day arrives. You peel it off, and you smile. The pain is no more.
^ that sums it up.

For some, it's a gradual process, for others, it's in the form of an epiphany.

But either way, you wake up one fine day and you realize that you're sick of caring about it. You're sick of constantly antagonizing yourself. You're sick of replaying the memories in your head. You're sick of being so affected by this, when you're probably the least of their worries. You're just sick.

That moment, is the one you're waiting for; when you ultimately start to recover, and for good.

Yet, after many years, you happen to steal a glance at the wound.

A tiny scar remains.

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