Break me.

Put the memories, the images, the sights, the smells, the feelings, the everything I don’t want in a box. Lock the box. Put it in a safe. Lock the safe. Leave the house, run as fast as I can down the street several blocks. Fly into the train station, down the stairs, into the train. Take the train far, far away, leaving all of it behind in a box where it can’t get out and follow me.

 

This is the mental-visual exercise I’ve been doing the past couple of days to try and free myself. Just lock it all up and leave it behind. Don’t look back, don’t go back. Leave it where it is. There’s no other way. Leave the heart and the love and the laughter behind. There’s no point in taking it with you.

 

But I keep going back unconsciously and unlock the safe, taking out the box, unlocking the box, and letting it all back out.

 

Why?

 

Because I want to keep it, I guess.

 

And all the tears I cry and hurt I hurt can’t seem to convince me that it’s better to just give it up.

 

So where are the people that said they’d stop me from trying to abandon it? Where are the people that said they wanted me to love, and to hold on, and to keep fighting? Where are the people that said they didn’t want to let me go?

 

Not here. Not saving me. Not holding me. Not here.

 

 

So I keep trying to throw it all away, so that no one will break me or tear me again.

 

 

 

I guess that’s all I have left, is the hope that with this try, it’ll finally be over.

 

 

 

 

 

I close the lid and lock it.