Heartache

Now that all is done, I only get glimpses.
Slivers of memory showing me what I used to crave, what I used to possess. 
Slivers of desire, in contrast to these ages of nothing. 
Reminders of what “happy" used to mean.

Used to.
I hate dwelling on the past. We are constantly changing.
Every emotion, every friend, every moment, crush, relationship, love, heartache
is temporary. Regardless of the guise of permanence it may hold. 

The glimpses are deceiving. Giving us hope,
renewing old longings that never really left,
conjuring up our deepest memories,
causing us to create goals and wishes that cannot be fulfilled
in the moment.
Stupid reminders.

What we forget is that the glimpses are like photographs. Forever flawless. 
Displaying the best part, not the before and after.
Not the emotions leading up to it and the downfall that proceeds.
We don’t get glimpses of the bad “used to" and that is the dangerous part.
So we must take every precaution, meticulous as it may be,
to shoot those slivers down out of our lives,
to smother the flames of desire,
to shut off the part of our brain that holds the sweetest memories.

You are temporary. I am temporary.
The temporary nature of life is the only reliable and constant thing in this world.
Ironically.

Maybe humans are interchangeable parts
Used for the same job, almost identical, easily replaced, easily forgotten
Never repaired
Thrown out for something or someone better
All performing the same function in this world
Trying every day not to feel what we “used to" feel.
The easier road is monotonous and mundane. 
We are exiled from something that “used to" be of great importance, and are forced to be okay with it.