I reread all the books I used to read, when I thought I was in love with you. Same words, same sentences, but I didn’t feel the same.

I wondered, what happened between then and now? What changed? The first time I read it, each sentence was like a key unlocking a vault of emotion, the more I read, the more I felt, the more my face got stained in all the right places. I wondered and pondered the first time around, I blamed and wished I could get things back. Now I don’t.

I read those words and all I feel is detachment. I can’t relate, I can’t connect. Who was that girl who read and felt? who was that girl who read and wept? For a long time I wondered what it would feel like to finally get over a person. Now I know. It felt like the shackles which attached me to all the things and all the places and all the people that reminded me of him was cut off.  It felt like freedom…. I encountered the past without reliving it.

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