It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

I believed, for a little bit, that I was beginning to tread the road that would lead me to betterment. So much for that.

Your name has been plastered everywhere... and it seriously doesn't help that little details like that trigger the most intense nostalgia I could only curse at the moment. I don't really hate it, but the frequency with which it happens is something that leaves less to be desired on me.

Your name. How is it even possible that your name pasted on someone else's first, middle, or last identity automatically sets my brain off and directly leads me back to thoughts off you. The mere mention of it, although knowingly not in direct reference to you, brings about a sizable significance that throws me. Seriously. It's that bad.

I'm in cyclical motion again. Here I thought I'd gone through the worst and for a few moments I had begun to take comfort in the fact that thinking of you and the memories didn't sting as much they used to. But apparently, once they come in untimely consecutive intervals they begin to jab at me like eleven hundred throw daggers all at once. It was like that before, it's like that again now.

Frankly, it's beginning to annoy the living lights out of my good sense.

I mean really, how hard is it to get over you? It shouldn't be this taxing. By now, I should be able to gingerly smile at the moments we held together. By now, the itch and urge to dial that oh-so-familiar number shouldn't be around. By now, the wind's whisper of your name shouldn't have to immediately up and scoot me right towards sentimental memory lane.

But it happens still.

And here I thought that if I were to just let it ride, the tide would eventually tire out and I'd come out of it in a flash. But no. I'm here, drifting aimlessly in a sea where I could dangerously drown into depths of unwanted longing.

Please, I think it's been made clear on more than one occasion that I am not wanted in your life anymore. I've accepted that, and yes it doesn't make it any less painful but I sure as hell have learned to deal with it. But dammit, why must you keep on haunting me?

Why must every evening be filled with you for last thoughts and every morning with you as the first?

My senses are adamantly persuading me to stop and my willpower is almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown just trying to keep me sane. But my stupid, stupid hear just refuses to give in to what I'm really supposed to be doing.

I'm ready to heal now. I can say that for sure.

Bits of me may still be holding on to what most probably is a false hope, but my better self is more than ready to move forward.

Show me a sign that'll make me stop. Slap me with a big billboard that says just give up.

It'll be easier that way.

At least, with that, I truly know where I stand.

Then I can freely make my next move.