back in the game

moving on has its perks.

your tear ducts are relieved. you look better and less puffy in the morning. you start being able to live with yourself once more. you begin to enjoy the company of people you've neglected for a while.

the feeling itself is enough therapy.

except that if you've moved on barely a week after a break-up, people look at you funny. they call you and tell you "rules".

you should mourn for half as long as you were together.
you should go out and not stay at home alone.
drinking, in moderation, is good.
stay single. ditch the pilot, ditch any guy for that matter.
stay with your aunt instead of the dorm. it's better to have family around you.

what they don't realize is that all i have to do is to take one good look at the huge black and blue handprint on my arm, and i move on.

as swift as i can.

you don't gently run away from a monster. you don't even look back (they only do that in movies). you kick off your shoes and you run as fast as your feet would take you.

and if a knight in shining armor has a white horse that you can use to run away from the memories even faster, you board that horse and gallop away.

and you move on.

no regrets. no fear. no sense of loss.

all you've got is the knowledge that luckily, unlike bluebeard's wife, you didn't have to see the bodies in the closet only when it was too late already.