Member Rara Avis
You know, you can sit and write your heart out for a year and more, purging the pain, escaping or romanticizing the memories in an attempt to exorcize them. Poetry, prose, complaints, articles, secret journals that no one else will ever see. You cry in the middle of the night when you're alone so no one can see you, then put on a normal face in the morning so the rest of the world thinks you're all right.
Initially, the normal face is hard to put on. But eventually, it becomes a habit. The habit becomes ingrained. And then finally, it's no longer a habit, but rather a reality. Sure, the mind still dwells on the past sometimes. But now it's a bit more detached and the memories are fond rather than bitter. Every once in a while you may hear a song that grips your heart in tears, but even that fades eventually, until you're finally left with something approaching hope.
Then you meet someone, or find the prospect of that which you've been looking for. Now, instead of a normal face, you have a hopeful one. Granted, not without misgivings though, as the past is still there and the old say "once bitten twice shy" rings often in your mind. But still, it's time and you're ready to move ahead.
Then, the past jumps up to bite you in the ass and you realize that those tears, almost forgotten, come back all too easily.
I suppose you can only hope they'll leave a bit more quickly this time.