I don’t miss you today.

Maybe I’m finally done missing you. Maybe whatever biochemical and trauma bonds that keep me tethered to you are finally broken, or maybe it’s just for today — just for right now. Maybe it’s just because this was a weekend filled with death and that has me pretty apathetic to everything and that just happens to include you. But in the meantime, while I know what it’s like to not miss you, here’s how it feels, just in case I forget later:

It’s quiet. Serene. Breathable.

If I want to relive the sound of your voice, I have to choose to think about it, and I’m choosing not to.

My knuckles are relaxed for once. In fact, my muscles are all more relaxed than usual. Maybe that’s because I took the subway and got a seat, but somehow I think it’s more than that. I’m not hanging by a thread.

Even my eyes move more easily, like they had gotten used to some amount of friction with every movement and right now they can move softly, freely.

I don’t feel like there’s a void where you belong.

I see you for who you are and always were and what you’ve done, and I not only know I shouldn’t want you in my life, I actually don’t want you in my life. As a result, the usual pressure on my chest from the shame of grieving the loss of a toxic, abusive person is gone. I have nothing to judge myself for, if only for just this moment.

I’m not in pain like I usually am. I feel younger, smoother, less afraid, and more available.

Not wasting my precious time and energy missing you, it feels a little less bad than usual.