REMEMBER // Calum Hood

Seventy nine // empty

I once read that healing is a slow, but steady process. Can be long and sometimes tough but it will set you free from the nagging pain of an open wound. I once read that as soon as you are set free, you evolve to a higher standard and in a way, become a better person. What has hurt you becomes a part of you and you learn from it, you also learn to live with it.
They say evolution comes through forgiveness. It comes only after you stop allowing the thing that caused you pain to keep hurting you. In my case, it still hurts - even after all this time - but not like it used to. Not to the point where it is almost physical. I learned to live with it, and now, I don't even cry anymore.
Dealing with it, came after the creation of my own coping mechanism, which included a set of rules - that applied for me and for the ones around me. All the rules basically revolved around not mentioning his name, his band or the moments he was present. It was a bit tricky at first, for all of us, but after a few weeks we got the hang of it.

After I became officially homeless, the boys agreed to give me back my old bedroom. Derek was kind enough to move his things to Jason's bedroom seeing as Lis also spent most of her days - and nights - in the apartment, meaning Drew needed his bedroom for himself. Derek would usually sleep in the living room couch which made things a bit messy, I won't lie. The apartment was already too small for the three of us, I can't even begin to describe how it was when we had to share one bathroom between five people.
And to think there was a time I had a house with four bathrooms completely to my disposal.
Thoughts like this came to my mind all the time and I had to force myself to stop thinking about it. About him.
Like I said, it can be a long process.
I honestly enjoyed living with all my friends. I didn't have as much privacy as I would like but it was nice to have their loud voices and cheerful laughters filling the quietness. The void inside of me.
It was also nice to have company any time of the day or night, specially when the thoughts inside my head made me feel lonely. Or insufficient.
Was I not good enough for him?
After months, I was finally starting to realize that it wasn't my fault. Perhaps, nothing I could've done would've changed the facts. I never believed in coincidences - and was always a fervent believer of fate. Things happen exactly in the way they are supposed to and so, the only option left, is to wish for the best.
He came into my life and made it a million times better. Made me whole and radiant.
Then he left. Leaving me broken and hollow.
With a hole in my chest, that was once occupied by my love for him.
It hurt a lot. It angered me. But it also taught me.

If I had the option, I would've choosen to never see him again.
It's funny how we think we are in control of our lives. After that night, I swore I would never look at him in the face again. I swore to never want anything to do with him - ever again.
Simply because it's easier to try and forget someone when you don't have to see his face all the time. I wanted so desperately to forget him and the pain he cause me but ironically, I could always count on seeing him every night in my sleep. I still dreamed about him, every night.
At first, I would dream solely of him. I would be in his house, sleeping in his bed, taking showers together, cooking breakfast, driving his car to work or anything like this. It was almost like I would be reliving the routine we created in my dreams. The routine I couldn't help but miss at time. The sound of his voice was a constant presence and sometimes I could even feel his touch.
Then, the scenarios started to change. He stopped talking to me in my dreams and for some reason, we would never touch. It was always as if there was something in between us, keeping us apart. I would be in a forest, escaping a ferocious lion and trying to get to his car, but my feet weighted tonnes. Or I would be trying to get on a crowded subway train, with dozens of people blocking the doorway - while he was already inside.
At last, he was just a face in my dreams. I would be in class, trying to study for a test and the book would have a picture of him on page 6. Or I would be grocery shopping and he was the rude cashier that wouldn't even look up to smile to customers.
Dreaming about him made it a lot more difficult to forget him. As if it was possible at all.
But at least, I could wake up and sigh in relief once I realized none of it was real.