Like This

Sometimes someone you love does something really bad to hurt you and you agonize over it for a long, long while and try to get over it eventually. And you'll think that you are over it but there will still be this lingering pain that hides behind all the other things in your heart and one day, something will remind you of the crime committed against you and you'll suddenly remember it all again and it will make you sad. Like if your man cheated on you with some girl named Beatrice. Suppose you forgive him and you two move on together and you think you've gotten over it until one day you hear the name again and you suddenly remember "That's the name of the girl my man cheated with." It probably isn't even the same Beatrice, but it's the name that stirs up the memory. And you're left with this ache in your heart as you realize that no matter how hard you try to get over something, there's always going to be this little twinge in your heart when you remember... and you'll always remember, because you've got a good memory that way. Unfortunately. And you'll convince yourself that you're over it but it will still be there, buried deep behind the love letters he sends you, hiding behind all the times he plays with your hair, lingering in the shadows of the talk you share about the day you'll someday be married. It's there. It's always there. And you don't think there ever is a way to get over it because, in your opinion, to get over it you'd have to forget it. And you're just too good at not forgetting things. You still remember what you were wearing July 4, 1986. And you'll sign onto the internet one day and you'll stumble across something that triggers the memory of that hurt, the one you thought you had gotten rid of. There will be that twinge, that ache, that familiar pain that says, "I'm still here."

And then you'll go [online] to write about it. Like this.

A.R.M.
10/22/01