The hardest part of a fall is getting back up again.
God knows that if you’d had a significant fall, all you want to do it sit on the ground and never ever experience that again.

I’ve been sitting on the ground for 3 years it feels like. I tell myself that I’m trying. I tell my friends and family that I’m trying.

But am I really?


After we had broken up (over 9 months after the accident), he would be like a ghost.

Late at night, when I’d get into my car, I’d look in the rear view mirror and think that I see him sitting in my back seat. Looking at me.

Of course, I’d turn around and look. Nothing would be there. Or I’d close my eyes and look again.
He’s alive and somewhat well (that douche). As well as can be expected probably.

But still… he was my ghost.

And I’d see him in everything…

Every book. Every song. Every movie. In a crowd. And apparently in the back seat of my car.

How strange is it to be haunted by someone that is still alive?


I was with him 2 years shy of a decade, so it wasn’t hard for our songs to always be around somehow. Or for something to remind me of him. So much of him was a part of me. I’d like to think that I was that much a part of him too.

Maybe he was seeing my ghost.


(But whatever! He’s a douche.)


As time progressed, it wouldn’t happen as much. I wouldn’t hear him in a song. Or see him in a book.

I don’t always see him in my rear view mirror anymore.


When I see someone else have a great fall, god I feel bad. Immediately.

Because I, of all people, understand how hard it is to recover. To get up.
But I guess the ghost in the rear view mirror stops appearing so much after a while. While there are the occasionally days where the idea of this loss is crushing, those days become much fewer and far between.



Am I really trying to get up though…? 3 years later…

That’s a story for another night, I guess.