In an effort to post more consistently, I’m going to post some older, throwback pieces. Although I tell myself all the time that I will write (and post) more, I keep getting in the way of myself. My issues with fear, failure, vulnerability, laziness still have a strong hold on me. I’m working on it everyday. Baby steps. Bits and pieces. Fits and starts.
It was as if he picked up her house and shook it furiously, uprooting everything from its place. She had never seen so much crap–and she had never seen so clearly. She knew that things could never be put back the way they were.
What do you do when someone comes in and makes a list of your flaws, a list so long it extends further than the length of your being? Just places it apathetically in front of you, in black and white. You slowly go down the list and feel the sharp sting of truth in every item just staring boldly back at you. Things you had carefully hidden. Things you’d gone to such care to hide even from, or especially from, yourself so that you were convinced they no longer existed.
How did he find that? I locked it away so deeply I couldn’t even see it anymore.
But he had found it. He found everything. Knew everything, remembered everything. She hated that the most. Sometimes, she couldn’t even remember her last sentences. Sentences that made him so angry but she couldn’t understand why, for she had already forgotten what was said. Therein lied the problem. He remembered everything while she remembered nothing. They were from different worlds really, but they were made of the same soul.