Setting goals

One step at a time. One day at a time. Those are the mantras that everyone reminds you of when you go through a break up. My goal today was not to cry. Which proved utterly useless it was not meant to be. I'd avoided being in public most of this weekend because I didn't know what would trigger another absolute bout of hysteria. "This girl sounds absolutely wet". Well in fairness it certainly seems like I am but those who know me know that in most circumstances I am unwavering, emotionless, and cutthroat. Repress repress repress that is the Asian way.
The stupidest thing...the most inane thing will remind me how much S permeated my life left his mark, and took it away.
The Pinocchio keychain from our first vacation in Florence together. The wooden minature that S knowing me like he does gently reminded me that it probably wouldn't last very long what with the protruding nose and all. As it turns out that only thing that's broken yet is our relationship. That vacation was significant for so many reasons. It was the first time he accidentally on purpose called me his girlfriend. It was the first time we forewent all those first dating civilities and recognized that we both had bodily functions. It wasn't all roses there was morning breath and grooming issues to contend with and I was never more happy than when I got to wake up every morning to him, his smell his presence his warmth.
I cried in Morrisons today, yes Morrisons and why? All because of a Godamn basil plant. I had dragged S with me to go shopping for our post / pre thanksgiving celebrations, he thought we were going to hang out but not to be as we spent the first of many days together just being domestic. That basil plant. I wanted fresh herbs and I remember S shooting off lost for 15 minutes. He had made finding me the perfect basil plant his personal mission, asking staff looking high and low he made the most mundane thing so important to him because he always made me feel so important. I was always a priority, no matter how silly or insignificant it could have been.
The macaroons in the mall made me cry. They reminded me of that little amazing bakery in Budapest where for three days we'd walk by take a whiff and say, "well let's just get a quick macaroon". And everyday for three days we'd walk out our change pockets empties, our tummies satiated, and a slightly guilty grin on our face. This trip was ours together to celebrate our birthdays together. This was the trip that solidified what I knew a long long time ago but was so so scared to address. That I was heads over heels for this boy. Wholly completely no abandoned love him.
I don't know when I'll stop crying. I think that this goal setting this goal is the most unrealistic one I can set for myself. Because to stop crying is to forget. Or have these beautiful memories fade. And to be honest in not sure I am willing to do so. I don't want my memory of him to diminish.