The Decadence Chronicle. Episode 32: Over

How do you know that you are over someone? It’s hard to tell. All I know is that today I looked at that map in the office and, for the first time, didn’t look away. And, after years of avoiding it, I finally saw it there: Uzbekistan. The sole mention of the word used to feel like a kick in the balls while getting my skin burned with acid. The place itself and their people didn’t mean shit to me. Not until my ex decided to fuck a “friend” for weeks there, while we were still together. “Cheating” I think they call it, no? But today I looked straight into the map and it was there, staring back at me. And I didn’t feel anything. I thought “Shit, I should be feeling something now,” but nothing was happening. Just relief, with a light taste of fleeing sadness.

Don’t get me wrong here. It’s Thursday night and I haven’t had sex in a couple of weeks. If my ex came through my door right now, I would walk up to her, take her into my bedroom and fuck her brains out. All of this in silence, in a very passive-aggressive fashion. (With her consent, obviously; not in the rapey Scandinavian or Latino way.)

That woman brought a tremendous pain to my existence. Since she’s been gone, that suffering has been the main reminder of her in my life. And now that the pain is finally dissolving, what’s left? The good memories? There are some. Or several, to be frank. But to relive those moments in my head is dangerous and misleading. Blurs the lines that have been crossed, as if the relationship haven’t ceased to exist. For what purpose? No good deed could come from that; just a new wave of pain.

The last days I had slept like shit again. Women, complicating my life, bringing insomnia back with force. But last night it was different. The future was finally looking less gloomy and slightly promising, so I slept like a baby. Maybe, after all, today I was prepared to see that country in the map. Ten months it took me. Ten months of suffering, existential crisis, sleep deprivation and emotionally detached women and their emotionless sex. A process that, in its utterly decadent essence, somehow brought peace to my mind and healing to my soul.

If you were to ask me now how would you know if you are over somebody, I would still be clueless about it. I would go really deep into myself trying to find the answer, or wonder if today’s map incident was a sign of progress. Because I don’t even know if this is it for me, if the time to turn the page has come. Yet, I think I will go with “yes,” and get over with it. Fucking finally!

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