Erasers, Lies, and Three-Lock Boxes

 This is how I feel about being erased. Have at it. 


You can belittle me, degrade me, disrespect me, and attempt to erase me, but you will never be able to destroy my memories. Only time and nature have that kind of power. 

You can't make me feel the same disgust you feel about your "past," and all that was in it. Because my memories and a magical metric fuckton of images tell a much different story. No, things were not always easy. No, we didn't have a lot. No, I was definitely not perfect, ever, and many people didn't hesitate to let me know how imperfect I was. But I remember from how I felt. I remember what I felt. And you don't get to take that away. 

Never take for granted those little moments, no matter who you turn out to be. You never know when it's the last time you'll get to have any more of those times. 


Like the clouds up there in the sky that look so solid, as if you could just lay on them and recline in billowy comfort, it all just turns to vapor. It's gone the second you try to hold on to it. 

I also feel the same about lies. 


Do not look me straight in the eye and lie, fumble, make excuses, play dumb, etc. Just don't. It's not a good look. 

For fuck's sake, own your shit. If you want something, SAY you want something. If you no longer want something, SAY you no longer want something. It's very simple. 

What is left of my heart and soul is now stashed away in my own three-lock box. Sorry, that song popped into my head the other day, and wouldn't leave ... 

Suckers walk, money talks
But it can't touch my three lock box

This week, every day has been a struggle. The more I learn, the less I wanna know. Can I not just have peace? Can I not just have rest? Can I not just have the simplest amount of happiness once in a while? What happens when there's nothing left of my heart to break? 

Your guess is as good as mine. 



No comments:

Post a Comment