The Wall

I don’t think people understand how many times a day I have to suppress the first reaction. Not just tears. The whole first reaction. The urge to say her name. The urge to text her. The urge to walk upstairs and tell her something funny. The urge to ask for help. The urge to tap out for five goddamn minutes. Everything has a first draft in my mind where she still exists. Then reality edits it. That constant correction is exhausting. It’s not one loss. It’s hundreds of tiny losses every day. Tiny collisions between old wiring and current truth. And because those collisions are invisible, people think time must make it easier. Maybe it changes the texture. Maybe the impacts come differently. But “easier” is a lazy word for a process that includes constantly having to train your own brain not to reach for someone built into every part of your life.