usually it's easy, these days.
but then the world begins to spin and your standing still, with your feet plastered to the ground. you can't move them. glued to the pavement, you become stuck as you hear how your friend saw his friend and your friend told you that his friend told her that he's doing this or doing that.
and suddenly it's no longer easy.
these days, it's hard.
And you try to keep that book closed, you keep your arms from reaching up to the top of your closet where the photos still live, memories still alive, moments still intact. You don't dare go near your computer because even though you wonder what the password is, your fingers know the keys to hit, like something engrained in their wiring, your fingers know that password and with that password comes pain. So you don't dare. Instead you lay alone with your thoughts, pissed that he's doing this or doing that and that his friend told your friend who told you that he still cares. because it doesn't matter if he cares, or if he will always love you, because he's doing this and he's doing that, without you.
and today it's not easy.
these days, it's just hard.