Moving On…
Moving on has never been one of my strong points. I remember everything. I once organized twenty years worth of photos because I remembered every outfit I had in them and what year I wore them, along with who bought them for me. I remember everything.
Sometimes I worry that I will never be able to move on from anything, and that I will spend the rest of my life dwelling on something that was never meant to happen, and that as a result I will miss out on the things that I am really supposed to be living.
Like, this guy. I just can’t get him out of my head, and I really, really don’t want to come off sounding like I spend ANY TIME AT ALL listening to Kylie Minogue, because I totally don’t, but really, the thought of him will JUST NOT GO AWAY.
And then I sit and I wonder, what if I never, ever move on? What if I’m stuck on this same old topic for the rest of the years of my life, and when I’m elderly and needing geriatric care while I still live in the room above my parents’ kitchen? What then?
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