…and the other worsens it.
I hate this sentence and everything related to it. It keeps popping up in my life, in different situations, but it only brings one memory to surface.
The one I am proud to have, proud to show and tell everyone about. The one that fills my heart with the coziest feeling, the one that instantly brings a smile to my face, no matter where I am. The one that seconds after my initial reaction brings an excruciating feeling of emptiness, of confusion, of sorrow, of failure and of regret.
Feelings I have to let go of. The cozy one and the cold ones, because there isn’t one without the other.
I need someone to reset my brain, because constantly feeling mentally exhausted is taking a toll I cannot afford.
I wonder why and how everything happened, because it is all just a goddamned blur in my head. From the day my dad got sick until today. I wonder if there’s a greater purpose - one that I’m missing out on and that, when I find out about it will, make everything fall into place.
The mere thought of letting go freezes my bone marrow in its entirety. My heart beat races, chills run through my skin. And my brain goes through an exploding process. Images of pleasant situations regarding whatever it is that I have to let go of burn strongly in my mind.
The stronger the resolution to let go, the stronger those images burn.
You know when they say that when you’re about to die, your whole life flashes right before your eyes? Well, when I’m letting go, I’m killing my feelings of attachment towards the thing I have to let go of. And, right before my murderous act, all the memories related to the thing flash before my very eyes.
It weakens me, it discourages me. I feel my fingers trembling, my hand’s gone cold. My mouth is dry. All I have is the certainty I felt moments ago that I have to let go. I can’t change my mind. I can’t trick myself into that, but, since nobody knows me better than I do, I’m quite good at fooling myself.
Strength, where art thou.
I can’t fail. I must let go. One week ago is something that still is in the past. Just like one second ago. Whatever happened then, is not going to happen now neither later.
Arms bruised from the tight squeeze of my fingers bracing myself, not collapsing is a challenge. The need to hold on is as strong as the need to let go. Holding on will be the only thing left, so, why, why must I let go?
People say life’s a bitch. I say letting go is a bitch, and it makes life a bitch, because life without letting go would have no meaning - I’d not learn the importance of the thing without having to let go of it. It’d not sting. It’d not bother me enough to sit down and reminisce. Things would be taken for granted, and hell’d be set loose.
At least in my mind, it would.