The last traces of a person are the most difficult to erase. They are the memories, the sounds, the scents, the intangibles that are most precious. Throw out a box of gifts... so sad how time can fit in a box, but your mind is forever stained. And I've never been able to throw things out. I suppose it's time I change even that. Stop carrying burdens I don't need and don't hold precious anymore. But I'm left with this one box I cannot throw out. It is too precious.
I'm thinking of moving on, but I'm afraid everything will turn out exactly the same.
The scene keeps playing in my head, each time with a different happier ending. That something else could've been said, or done or not said or not done. But wishful thinking never got me anywhere.
So I let go off pain for now because I cannot invest my time in it. So I have to begin forgiving myself for all the things I'd done wrong, and remember not to do them again. They're just things I've got to do. I still can't change the fundamentals. The memories stick like super glue.
I'm thinking of moving on, but I'm afraid everything will turn out exactly the same.
The scene keeps playing in my head, each time with a different happier ending. That something else could've been said, or done or not said or not done. But wishful thinking never got me anywhere.
So I let go off pain for now because I cannot invest my time in it. So I have to begin forgiving myself for all the things I'd done wrong, and remember not to do them again. They're just things I've got to do. I still can't change the fundamentals. The memories stick like super glue.
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