Multo by Cup Of Joe
Listening to "Multo" by CupofJoe, feels like stepping into the remnants of a love you thought you left behind but never really did. It's as if that love has taken on a life of its own, a ghost haunting the corners of your mind and heart. The song perfectly captures what it's like to experience a relationship relapse, where you're not just dealing with the pain of loss but also the "multo"—the ghost of what could have been. It's not just about missing them; it's about the haunting presence of all the possibilities that never played out.
No matter how hard you try to move on, it stays with you, lingering in the shadows, a whisper of the same old memories. You hear it in the silence, in the spaces that once felt alive with shared laughter, and it hits you most in the places you used to go together. It's like walking through a familiar room but seeing everything through a slightly fogged window, knowing the past is gone yet feeling it so close, like it's just out of reach.
What makes it even harder is that the "multo" isn't just them—it's not just their presence you can't shake off. It's the version of yourself that was wrapped up in the hope you had for that relationship. The hope that you could fix things, that things would go differently. That hope refuses to rest in peace. It keeps coming back, not letting you fully move on because it's a reminder of all the 'what ifs,' the things you imagined for your future together.
In many ways, the "multo" is both comforting and cruel. It's familiar because it represents something you once cherished, but it's also painful because it's a constant reminder that it's no longer real. It's like carrying around a part of yourself that's stuck in the past, no matter how much you try to outrun it. And that's the hardest part—realizing that you're not just haunted by their memory, but by your own inability to let go of the dreams that once felt so close to reality.
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Dear Jo,
I keep wondering—why can't I let go of all the memories? Why am I still stuck in this place, replaying the moments we shared, while you seem to have moved on, living your life and finding happiness? It feels so unfair. Every time I think I've made some progress, the memories come back, like shadows I can't escape from. They sneak up on me when I least expect it—when I pass by places we used to go, or when a song we loved plays in the background. It's like I'm haunted by us, by everything we could have been but never were.
I can't help but wonder if you ever think about those times, or if they've just faded into the background for you. It's hard to sit here, still carrying all of it, knowing that you've moved forward. I'm happy that you're happy, truly, but at the same time, it hurts. It hurts to know that I'm the one left with these memories that won't let go, while you've found your way to peace, or at least that's how it looks from where I stand.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that it feels like I'm stuck holding onto something that no longer holds onto me. And that's the hardest part—realizing that while I'm haunted by everything we were, you've found a way to break free.
It's strange, isn't it? How memories can be both beautiful and painful at the same time. How they can keep you stuck to the past, even when you want nothing more than to move forward. Maybe you've figured out something I haven't yet. Or maybe this is just the way things go—one of us gets to heal faster, while the other is left behind, trying to make sense of it all.
I don't know if you'll ever read this, or if it even matters to you now, but I needed to say it. Maybe it's just for me, trying to find some closure in all the confusion.
Take care,
JM
