pixelated.me

I've stopped counting the end of my past relationship.

for some time now, I stopped paying attention to old anniversaries.


But i've sorted of done away with them in general. Some day this summer.

On a nice day with a good


breeze i'll somewhat arbitrarily say "it's been a year" for my new relationship.


No date. No anniversary. No marking of a calendar. I think it's nicer this way.

I'm at the part where i start processing the little random bits that were once me, us, her, that chapter.
some moments are awkward like watching my new gf put on the cooking apron i bought once for valentines many years ago with old gf. It seems so bizarre that my stuff, my things, my sheets, my pillow, my stuffed animal, a green frog, all once seemed so shared with that one person. They're all analogous with me i suppose. It's the realization that i'm sharing of myself again.

another something i noticed: no one ever quite fits in your arms the same way. the small evolved patterns of holding, nestling, sleep, are utterly different, devastatingly so, because however unfair it is to say so, a small part of me wondered if she would fill the spot on my chest that the old "she" once fit into.
instead it's my right ankle that notices her absence when i sleep alone. It's the leg with which i reach and touch her leg as it reaches for mine since we sleep facing opposite directions.

Quote: Before Sunset from Luis Sosa on Vimeo.