Someone just asked how to get over someone.
I glibly responded that you get under somebody else.
Truthfully, I've never really gotten over anyone I've loved.
Places are haunted by memories. I work to cleanse them by having new experiences in them.
So many pet names are tainted. A new voice saying a familiar word in a familiar way can be a disconcerting moodbreaker the first time. It gets easier. I let the discomfort wash over me and let it go. Some pet names [too bizarre to be stated randomly by a new lover] will forever be reserved. And, because we've remained friends they'll occasionally creep out in some drunken long-distance conversation when one of us is excited or flummoxed by something and wants to share.
So much music is associated that for a time I find myself avoiding it entirely, rhythms resemble others, samples infuse.
Someone walks by wearing a fragrance that I can't name but a lover once wore. I remember him brushing my hair. I remember falling asleep on the couch beside him while he read.
In the beginning, such nostalgia can be debilitatingly painful. But, eventually, it is bittersweet. And, later, you can even become nostalgic about those initial sharp pains.
I don't wish to fully get over anything. It is all a part of what life is to me.