After you left, my days became a routine I tacked in with the every last desperate ounce of strength I had in me. What should have been the last long conversation became the offer, and the clicking sound made by the phone being returned to the cradle was me signing the contract.
After you left, I had a schedule. I bought a planner, filled in the little yellow boxes, crossed out the entries as the days went by and tried not to turn back, not even to check if there was anything I was forgetting.
After you left, there were parties to go to, drinks to imbibe, and long nights to spend avoiding that moment I would have to sit with myself and listen to what was going on in my head. I would have to sit down and listen to myself at some point. I just didn’t want it to be too soon. You were somewhere in there and for a time, I was successful at pretending you weren’t. I covered you with new music, new things to write about, new things to try, and anything I could pretend to feel. You know what they say about the old and the past, but there are just as many proverbs about the first which makes it all the more confusing. It would have to explode sometime.
So I made more plans. I charted a path to follow them in ways that involved helping myself so everyone would win. I marked the different pages on my calendar, took note of my resources, crafted new goals, identified possible hindrances as well as key result areas. E.g., gym on Sundays, eat more greens, smile more: your skin will achieve a healthy glow.
It takes one incident to send everything crashing down. A shift in market trends, a sudden distaste for self-actualization.