The Other Anniversary

It's been a year, and-
There are still days when the memories are a leaden weight,
When I cannot breathe, never mind breathe deeply,
And when, if I was thrown into the Harbour- from that spot, only ever that spot- I do not think I'd             cause a ripple; and I don't think I'd want to.
But-
It's been a year, and-
I can remember how it feels to laugh till it hurts again- I can remember, because it happens all the time,
And people have started telling me that I look well again,
And we know when the last time that happened was.

It's been a year and-
In the weeks after you left I took to change, shaved my hair, dyed what was left, got new piercings,
I tried to look up how long it takes cells to restore themselves, so I would know when I was my own again;
I moved my bed, I said because it was too high up there, but really because I could still smell your perfume, somehow;
And-
Some days, all I really wanted was for you to see how much I'd changed, so that maybe I'd have changed enough to be yours again;
I couldn't find an answer to my question, not an easy one, not the end-point I was looking for;
And even where my bed is now, I still think I can smell ghosts some nights
But-
The biggest changing I've done has been on the inside, the outside only reflects the me that I've become,
And according to science, we are all made of carbon, and that's what stars are made of, so who really cares whether your fingerprints are still on my skin?
And most of the time, my bed smells of lavender and candles and incense- my favourite things.

It's been a year and-
I still see people who look vaguely like you, and feel disappointed;
When I think of summer, the first thing I think of is the wind through your curtain and your hand on my knee, wearing those bright trousers
But-
I've realised I dread seeing you more than anything else, because that's not a part of the past I want to revisit, not really,
And summer this year is going to be so good, so good, so good- that's not the voice of denial, it's one      of truth

It's been a year and-
I still can't cope with people cancelling on me last minute, or being elusive about what's going on;
I still get triggered by weird things, and realise I can trace it back to then,
And I still have to regularly remind myself that this is now
But-
I'm getting better at that last one, and that's what counts.

It's been a year, and-
I cannot erase what happened, and I cannot even regret it,
I will always feel the jolt of how close I came to losing myself;
I still find myself hard to love, and I am amazed that anyone can;
I remain in expectation of being told that I am really just too much, being abandoned again-
I still have nightmares, and sometimes they don't end when I wake up-
I am still falling.

But.

It's been a year, and-
I am not the person I was a year ago.
I am learning to love myself, not again, but for real- I am surrounding myself with people who make that a little bit easier;
Someone else is holding my heart, and it's a bit battered, but the way they hold it makes me feel like maybe I am not as broken as I believe.
I am making sense where I can, finding golden threads of lessons and happiness and gratefulness.
I am stronger, and wiser, and braver.
I am in love, with this world and the beauty of it all;
I am healing, and living, and loving.

It's been a year, and-
I am a year older, and-

It's been a year, and-
I am so much more than the person I was.

I am so much more than the person I became.