"We agreed. If I won, you'd marry me someday."
"Why'd you wanna marry me, anyhow?" I ask.
"So, I can do this for the rest of our lives," he stops walking with me in his arms, his radiant blue-green eyes flickering between my eyes and lips as the ons...
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Time.
It's meant to heal all wounds.
At least that's what people say.
The proverb has been used for over two thousand years and was first attributed to the Greek poet Menander who lived around three hundred B.C.
It's been around long enough for it to hold some weight, but I don't buy it. You don't get to sit around, put in zero effort and work, and wait for the time fairies to mend every emotional thing wrong with you.
That's not how it works. That's not how life works.
Unless it was meant in a physical aspect – can't be though.
Time heals all wounds is often said to people who are going through an emotionally tough time in an effort to make them feel better.
The assumption is that given enough time, the pain of a particularly hurtful experience or a disastrous exchange of painful words will fade away. There's nothing about it being physical and there's nothing about it being true.
Time is an important aspect of healing but time itself doesn't heal.
Time allows for reflection on what you went through in a way which offers you, insight, and the ability to move on.
That's if you can get passed the bitterness and resentment and let go enough to focus on your healing.
I however can't.
I thought I could do it, but forgiveness is a foreign concept to my heart and time has become my enemy. The days have gone by so quickly. The week barely begins, and the weekend is upon me.
I've barely had time to collect my thoughts and October has come and gone in a blink of an eye. Life is one big shitshow and it feels like just yesterday when I walked out of Tracey's bar. To think it's been two months since that night.
Two months and I still haven't looked back, trying to ignore the pain which is still so raw.
God. I wish I looked back.
It's one of the things I regret more than anything – not looking back.
I knew if I looked back, I would never leave. In that moment of anger, hurt and uncertainty, I wanted nothing more than to leave it all behind.
I wish I took a second, a minute, an hour to process it all before making a rash decision.
I can't go back though. I can't turn back the hands of time. I can't rewind. I can't start over at my last checkpoint where the game automatically saved my progress.
Even if I could, I can't. Not with the heaviness in my heart.
"Can we talk?" Her voice infiltrates my thoughts like a parasite, but I ignore the sickly-sweet sound.
