Scrubbing You Away

September 5, 2011
By FaithInWriting SILVER, Port St Lucie, Florida
FaithInWriting SILVER, Port St Lucie, Florida
8 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Click. And that’s when our ties were broken. Maybe they would cross again, and a part of me wanted them to, but part of me wanted to rip your heart out and chuck it off the Empire State building. A phone call? Really? Couldn’t you’ve had at least the decency to tell me in person? But no matter. I would deal with it the way I felt best. I’d clean. And clean. And clean.
I felt like if every time I dusted the shelves or vacuumed the floor I was getting rid of a piece of you. I threw out my pillows. Or really our pillows since you bought them for me. The blue ones you bought and always threw at me as a joke. I never really found it funny. Or at least that’s what I tell myself now. Keep cleaning.
CDs, Stuffed animals, love notes, all of them trash. And that’s where I put them. Until I came across the photos, that’s when I actually started to cry. How could we go from being as happy as we were in the photo to torn apart? I burned them. All of them. Although I didn’t see how that helped being that most of them were on Facebook anyways. And somehow I didn’t have the heart to delete all of them. Back to cleaning. I swiped away my tears and began to clean even more intensely. Vacuuming, mopping, dusting, throwing stupid things away, I was sure to clean everything…
Next was laundry and even though I hated it any other time I enjoyed every second of it now. I never knew doing laundry could distract me from such horrible heartache. Who in their right mind would turn to drugs when cleaning does a much better job? And then, again for the second time the tears came pouring out of my eyes. Your t-shirt that you left here last week, I washed for you and I was supposed to give it back to you today. And then we split paths. My throat hurt from crying and my lungs felt like they would explode not to mention my eyes were so red and puffy I could barely see out of them. This shirt was the last piece I had of you. I pulled it to my tear streaked face and breathed. I knew it. Your smell, the smell I craved whenever you left had been washed clean the day before because I was expecting to get that smell back when I saw you next. Now I’d never get it back. I sobbed for hours holding your shirt like an idiot. The worst part of this whole thing was that I knew we would never be the same and that the pieces I had left of us, were now removed from my house…And with that thought I picked myself up from the ground and continued to do what I thought best. I continued scrubbing you away.

The author's comments:
I hope the reader can be pulled into this momentary world and never actually have to experience this in reality. :)

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