30 days

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I never thought someone could become a habit.

Habits were the way I bit my lip and nails.
Habits were the way I rubbed my left collarbone when I felt anxious.
Habits were the way I always brushed my teeth before I washed my face.
Habits were where I put my keys everyday when I came in the front door.
Habits were the way I always did my laundry on Sunday, just Sunday.

But you never realize habits until someone points them out.

And you never realize you're doing them until you catch yourself doing it, especially the bad ones.

No ground teeth, torn lips, or ragged nails could compare to my favorite bad habit.

The one with brown eyes and messy hair.
I habitually thought of him.
He simply became muscle memory, the clink of keys hitting the tray without me even looking up or pausing at the doorway.

I didn't realize he was habit until my teacher caught me biting my nails and lip, grinding my teeth, and she begged me to stop.

But I couldn't.

I didn't realize what I was doing until my nail was in my mouth, or my lip started bleeding, or my ears heard the grinding.

When his voice was suddenly there and I didn't remember dialing his number as I got into bed.

And my teacher simply told me that people can become habits and it's hard to sleep alone when you're used to having someone in your bed. Arms wrapped around your stomach and breath on your neck.

But it takes 30 days to break a habit. 30 days of sleeping diagonal, horizontal, anything but vertical with an empty space beside me. 30 days of holding myself together instead of remembering when you were there to do it.

30 days to break myself of you,
30 days to stop you from breaking me.

Before my lips are completely torn along with my nails and my teeth are so ground I couldn't bite anything if I wanted to.

Comments

  1. UnknownMay 24, 2016 at 6:02 PM

    Your writing is very emotional and rich in feeling!

    ReplyDelete

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