After Big doesn’t show up to their wedding in Sex and The City 1, a completely depressed Carrie asks her girlfriends: “Will I ever laugh again?”
I love that quote. If any sentence could ever describe a person’s emotional state after they have been left, it is that one. And I have been asking myself that same question a lot these days.
Out here in the real world, happy endings are a little rarer to come by.
I don’t have Manolo Blahnik’s, Jimmy Choo’s or Louis Vuitton’s in my closet to soak up some of the pain. Forget the labels, I don’t even have the luxury of time to indulge in a heart broken depression.
Some of us quite literally need to earn their living.
You can do it all to forget. Send your emails, go to your meetings and put on the best forced smile ever. When it is time to come home, you still end up curled on a couch consumed by thoughts of him and her until the next morning.
And I really do ask myself, will I ever laugh again?
My very own Mr Big, known as RS, has moved on to another after leaving me, no explanations given, on Christmas eve.
Some days have been easier than others. Even full weeks have sometimes been easier than others.
But I always crawl back to the pain. I relapse into unanswered questions and sleepless nights.
I wonder, over and over and over, to the point where it is almost an obsession, I wonder: will the day come where I will stop trying to forget because I simply would not remember?
And will I ever forgive him?