First.

I look at simpler things now, like how beautiful my hands look under the white light, or how the smell of gasoline is addicting, and how an asphalted road seems to glisten when under the sun’s rays.

I remember only chosen memories. In my mind, there is no room for sudden recollections. They take my breath away, and I’ve started to hate it. Started to hate feeling out of control, emotional. In my mind, there is a gap, a hole where he has been. I never want to fill it.

So I remember my life before and after him. None of them gives me joy as much as his memories does. But none of them makes me feel on the verge of hysteria either. Compensate is the key here. There is always, always a middle ground.

And for a coward like me, the middle ground is heaven.