I thought that would be it. I was strong. I had been removed from the pain of us for so long; I didn't think it could affect me anymore. But I hadn't been around people for so long; I had forgotten what it was like. I was surrounded by people. All the time. Everywhere. People. I could hardly stand it.
Sitting in the frozen foods section of the grocery store, on the floor weeping into a bag of French fries. It was all too much. I could hear everything: everyone was talking and laughing and looking at me. Whispering to each other about that crazy girl crying into frozen potatoes... she had cracked.
When you have spent months with no identity, with no voice outside your own mind, you forget things. All of the important things that make you, you. You forget what you really enjoy. I could have told you every food that he liked. Every song that he would turn up. Every movie he would rent. But I didn't know whether I liked cauliflower or not. I couldn't tell you my favourite song. I was unsure what movie I wanted to watch. So, I tried it all again.
It was a very good time. I spent the last few months, tasting and listening and watching... then, little by little, remembering.
I remember waking up one morning. The window was open so that the curtains billowed just a little when the breeze pushed its way into my room. "Oh, I love that," I thought to myself. And just like that, I was me again. It is difficult to explain how that felt. It was like waking up from a dream, with pieces of it still shifting around your mind, and slowly coming back to reality. Realizing the ridiculousness of it all.
Life tasted different now. Fresher, happier, more delicious. I was enjoying things I never had before. I would walk in the house and feel the burst of cool air on my hot skin and back out the door again - to feel the heat, and then the cool.
Flipping the Snickers was very good, indeed.
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