But have you ever stopped to noticed how time is so much like water? That it can pass slowly, a drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by in a blink. The clock on the wall states time is measured and constant, tick tock, part of an orderly world; the clock lies.

The past last days with my lost lover had passed like thousands of camera frames per second shown one at a time. In this slow time-bubble the birdsong was louder, coldness was colder and colors were brighter. All the while my insides felt as if there was nothing there, nothing to need feeding, nothing to have need of anything at all.

I went through all my journals frantically looking for the first mention of you. Searching for the details I can no longer recall-any morsel of information that may have been consumed within my subconscious. The memory of him is fading, a little at a time I can feel myself forgetting him. And part of me does not want to forget.

I begin to pour out my feelings down in a small journal, "It's been 8 months, 2 weeks, 6 days, since he choose her. I still don't know which month it was then or what day it is now. Hazed out lines from hangovers to coffee; A hopeless lost love.

It's 4am, I am once again alone and on my way to another mental breakdown. These are my finest moments. I scrub my skin, to rid me from his scent, I bath in lava to rid me of his touch and yet I still don't know why I cry.

It must have had something to do in the way he took my heart and rearranged my insides and I couldn't recognize the emptiness he had left me with when he decided he was done. Maybe he thought my insides would fit better this way, look better this way, to him and us and all the rest.

But he must have changed his mind or made a mistake because why did he leave? I'm loosing my mind. . . again. I can feel it unraveling, the threads of every happy memory I could ever once recall, all but a disarray of strings scattered about my feet."

I open my mouth, but not a sound comes out, head violently quivering as if there was a drill to the back of my skull. My eyes could see nothing; they have lost all sight of what is and what could have been. My mouth is open, an eternal silenced scream, saliva dripping from behind my teeth and onto the ground, stained with the memory of him; the man I once loved.

"8 months, 2 weeks, 6 days, and I still don't know which month it was then or what day it is now. I replaced our old favorite cafes with crowded bars and once empty roads I've filled with broken bottles and the town that once healed me slowly isn't healing me enough, I have to get away.

For the sake of my sanity I have to get away, I have to go away from here. I need to find someone new, he was Broken vows. He was like a broken mirror, I held on to his words, held on to his shards until I was left staring at a fractured image of myself, bleeding. So I must go I must disappear without a trace, I am sorry but there's no right way to do this."

Yet in the side I write. . . "I don't care," Honestly, and I didn't. He could have left me for the moon and I wouldn't regret a second we had spent together. I knew at that moment that I would have rather had my heart broken than not have this. . . So I made a contract with myself. "I will love him and forget the consequences-just this once. He can have everything. . ."