Kelly Clarkson got nothing on me; that's how strong I am. 

Or well, I had to be. 

A friend reminded me that I couldn't go an hour without crying if I brought up the subject to discuss my break-up, and somehow, running into my ex during our respective run (walk?) was...monumental, if nothing else. 

"You know nothing," weighed in the ex-colleague, "men know the ways to crawl back."

If that were the case, then he'd definitely reply to me and not leave the meme on reaction alone. 

Of course, my ex-colleague went all, you-fucked-up-big-time, as did two other friends who've heard all about the said break-up. People love to give unsolicited opinions on break-ups and I love to hear their view, as long as it's not my life they're commenting on. If that's the case, then fuck right off. 

Earlier last week, it had been over six months since our last date, and five months since our break-up; you can say four months of absence purely on a technicality cause the break-up timeline is hazy. 

We caught up on our lives after this meet-cute, but it didn't feel heavy.
Strangely, it flowed, it felt like nothing had ever happened, no time had lost, except there were glaring gaps that we were filling in.

Gaps, which showed that a lot of time had passed, but nothing had really changed in terms of our personalities. I was still overthinking and worrying myself to death, and he was still juggling exhaustion and long hours. A match made in heaven, unlike us. 

So, when the momentum died over text the next day, the status quo as "ex for a reason" was restored, I lived through the realisation that we're not together in any capacity, loud and clear. It was like taking five daggers through my body, extremely painful and very heavy throughout the day, and it even spilled into the weekend. 

Thankfully, this time, the damage was only cleaning my room, packing my luggage, buying a saree, organising my closet and sorting my lingerie. Imagine, if I worked with my ex, the productivity would shoot through the roof. 

I don't know how and when the pain subsides because the yearning sure did; infact I was recounting the same to the friend minutes before the run-in. The dull ache though? That goes on. It shows up in the middle of a joyous occasion, a moment after lunch when I'm wondering who do I rant about my work-performance reward, a memory when I'm in the car; none of it stops ever. You learn to live with the pain but it's unfair how it continues to be there. 

Obviously, the event was detrimental to the yearning in control. I spiralled back into a lunatic for the first 48 hours, went completely batshit at picking my skin (it's swollen, palms have hives, rash on thighs), ate more than I should have, ate breakfast, just went ham at my life. Not to forget, added more walks in my schedule, but in a different park. Didn't bother arguing or convincing my friend who I go out with to go to the same venue where we ran into each other. 

The reason I write about this is not because it's the only monumental thing that happened to me, but it certainly did affect me more than my sister's engagement, the appraisal (that sucked), planning a whole engagement party and an after party, dealing with disgruntled family. None of it broke me like this blip did. I have been speaking to my therapist on the regular, I feel I'm working harder than ever and yet, none of it had any effect, not the way this episode did.

It's been a month of way too many things going down, a lot of emotions running wild. A lot of me splattered into corners where I've no business being around. He made me feel the same, "what are you doing here at 7 am?" I couldn't gather anything except "hey" when I wanted to say, "it's 7:51 am, what does it look like I'm doing from my outfit and sweat and is this hard that I can't do it?" Instead, I just froze and smiled. 

I spent a lot of time with family, friends, extended family over this weekend. A lot of camaraderie to distract, spaces which offered me a respite from this constant badgering of what was the purpose of this episode, and times when I could disappear and nobody would say anything. Yet, the only thing that mattered was, how I came undone at a simple question from him, "something on your mind?"

I fucking love boomers aka folks born in the 80s, cause they got their hatred for the "reaction" right. If not for that, I'd be simping on the man in this post. Thank god for no-reaction because the way that reigned me in should be studied.