I used to never understand why people went back to the same relationship over and over again, even when it was clear that it was detrimental to their well-being. Why would anyone put themselves through that torture again, only to know that it would never end up well in the end? 

But now I know why. It's because our mind lingers. It lingers on what we want, what we need, and what we once had. 

That's the sticky thing with relationships. You have to put all your eggs in one basket, and hope for the best. If the basket ends up falling, and all your eggs break, it takes time to gather more eggs; on the second, or third, or even several more times after that, you're a little more hesitant to put your eggs in another basket.

My point? It takes time to move on from a relationship, and it definitely takes time to heal. This is the reason why we tend to fall back to our old relationships; why people linger.

I had to learn this the hard way, obviously. They say you can't sympathize until you've gone through it yourself, and it's true. My first breakup was pretty tame. It was mutual one, both of us having fallen out of it over winter break. My second, and first real break up, was horrible.

The moment it happened, I couldn't stop crying. Through my tears, I ransacked everything in my room that reminded me of us; of him. This meant all the pictures I printed and hanged on the wall, the cards, the teddy bears, the jar of hearts I had been keeping to track the days we'd been together, the necklaces, the unfinished photo album I was going to gift him on our 2nd Anniversary, which would now never happen, all of it. All of it went in a bag, ironically also from him, and stored in the back of my closet. I still see it every time I open to pick a change of clothes, but it's hiding, a big reminder of what we had.

I went out to run errands that night. I had never run errands that late by myself before, but I did it because I couldn't stay in my room any second longer. Every nook and cranny reminded me of him. When I got back, I went to cry it out at a friend's place, a friend that I hadn't kept in touch with due to classes and work. Of course I cried some more, and the rest of the week I spent at her place because if I found myself in my room for any longer period than 10 minutes, I would find myself breaking down. 

I couldn't for the sake of me find it in myself to move on. I kept thinking about "what ifs". What if he changed his mind? What if we got back together again? What if things were different? What if we changed things? Would it be different? 

What if I moved on? What if he comes back and I'm already with someone else? What if I miss something that could be between us? What if I wait and he comes back to me? What if....?

And that's the torture in it, thinking about what could be, but will never be. Having to move on, but not really wanting to move on, clinging on the last hope that things will return to it's former place. It's like trying to climb the mountain when you don't want to climb the mountain; it's tough. Sometimes you just want to settle, thinking that things will even out in the long run. But will it? I'm still not sure myself.

It's been a month, and I've done the typical, obligatory post-break-up things: cry my eyes out, binge on ice cream and sweets, go on a shopping spree, and vent, but I still think about "what ifs". I still want him to take me back, and I still think about what could have been. I still tear up when I think of something that would have once made me smile. I still linger. 

But, it's not as bad as it once was. I find myself surprised going for periods of times without thinking about him, though it still comes back when I least expect it. How long will it be like this, I'm not sure. Will I ever move on? Probably, but not anytime soon. I now understand why people go through the "torture": because the relationship still lingers. The mind lingers.