Honestly, there's nothing left.
That's the cool thing about a breakup. Everything starts with emotions and confusion, nothing gets expressed properly, people blow up at each other, threats are made, furniture is broken, unnecessary insults are hurled, drunken phone calls are made and in the end, you (if you're me) crawl into a bottle of liquor for a few days and you don't come out.
And then one day it's just over.
You know it's over when you stop thinking about her, when you no longer want that drink because, holy shit man, you are alone. ALONE. People don't drink alone unless they're after-school-special-sized alcoholics. What the hell were you thinking, douchebag?
And then the clarity returns and the self-pity fades. The world might still be throwing punches at you, but you're back to bobbing and weaving and, most importantly, back to laughing at yourself when your ass lands on the canvas.
And then there's nothing left.
The emotions get flat like old soda and trashed like? well like trash.
And then you realize that you don't hate anybody. In fact, far from it.
A poet once wrote, “When the bruises fade, the lightning aches.”
I never really knew what that meant until this breakup happened. And maybe I still don't know what it means, but in keeping with my new mantra, I must say that I think I know what it means.
I think I know that bruises are pain and lightning is urge, and as the pain fades, the urges return and life realigns itself in your skull.
If you're scoring at home, I could have just written the sentence, “I feel really good today” and got it over with. But this was more poetic, no?