Posted:
The hardest thing is letting go.
No matter what anyone tells you, it's the hardest step to take, and it can take years before you finally reach it.
It's been ten years. Ten whole freaking years. I've gone, gotten my degree, my masters, traveled around the world, earned a six-figure paycheck. And yet, I'm still in the same place I was when it happened.
I never believed it would take me this long to let go. But something, something, always kept me back. The denial phase reared its ugly head for a few years. Along with an acceptance that I couldn't change the event. But somehow I couldn't let go.
How is that possible? How could I have accepted something without letting go? But I guess it's plausible. I allowed it to become a part of me. And now it sits there quietly in the corner, not ready to disappear, but not willing to make themselves known.
I've been sitting here, trying to finally purge myself. But as always, it's harder to purge a memory than it is food. In order to vomit, all you have to do is stick a finger down your throat and wait for the bile to come up.
If only I could do it with a memory.
I've been sitting here listening to the song of my life - Cut by Plumb.
The lyrics soothe me while causing everyone around me a whole lot of consternation.
"I do not want to die inside just to breathe in..."
But each time I breathe, I die. I die recounting how I could have stopped it. I die recounting how it was so easy for me to turn away. I think of every way I could have stopped it, but refuse to let the actual event course through me.
So I remain sitting here, clouding my own judgment unintentionally, when in reality, I couldn't have stopped anything.
How do you stop someone dying of a tumour?
-|end|-
Depressing? I know. Suits my mood.
And yes, I've been listening to the mentioned song for the past twelve hours.
No matter what anyone tells you, it's the hardest step to take, and it can take years before you finally reach it.
It's been ten years. Ten whole freaking years. I've gone, gotten my degree, my masters, traveled around the world, earned a six-figure paycheck. And yet, I'm still in the same place I was when it happened.
I never believed it would take me this long to let go. But something, something, always kept me back. The denial phase reared its ugly head for a few years. Along with an acceptance that I couldn't change the event. But somehow I couldn't let go.
How is that possible? How could I have accepted something without letting go? But I guess it's plausible. I allowed it to become a part of me. And now it sits there quietly in the corner, not ready to disappear, but not willing to make themselves known.
I've been sitting here, trying to finally purge myself. But as always, it's harder to purge a memory than it is food. In order to vomit, all you have to do is stick a finger down your throat and wait for the bile to come up.
If only I could do it with a memory.
I've been sitting here listening to the song of my life - Cut by Plumb.
The lyrics soothe me while causing everyone around me a whole lot of consternation.
"I do not want to die inside just to breathe in..."
But each time I breathe, I die. I die recounting how I could have stopped it. I die recounting how it was so easy for me to turn away. I think of every way I could have stopped it, but refuse to let the actual event course through me.
So I remain sitting here, clouding my own judgment unintentionally, when in reality, I couldn't have stopped anything.
How do you stop someone dying of a tumour?
-|end|-
Depressing? I know. Suits my mood.
And yes, I've been listening to the mentioned song for the past twelve hours.
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