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I survived;

I survived the two-year anniversary. I thought of you, I almost called you. I wanted to cry, but I chose not to. I thought about what happened, I couldn’t breathe for a moment. I laughed. I regretted it. I took back the regret and accepted, once again, that what happened has happened and there is no taking it back. It is there, in my past, quietly collecting dust but still looking lovely as ever as it hangs on the wall, surrounded by all my other beautiful little mistakes.

I have survived. We both have. Now we can shake hands, breathe in each other’s scents once more, and go our separate ways.

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