Ignited on new year’s eve.

I-lost-track-nth attempt of cleaning up memories of a past life in an effort to cut from loose strings that still dangle in my chest, like thorns that I can’t find.
I burned the last few pieces of high school memorabilia and quite a bit of failed exams in college (specifically math and accounting), a notebook, pieces of paper describing who you are to other people, and some miscellanea.

Did I feel better?

Unsurpringly, no.
I was expecting a feeling of relief, like weights taken off the chest but that didn’t happen. Burning these was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to hurt in a way that I am getting rid of things I cherished for some sick reason, but simultaneously felt like holding me back for the same.
There was something else holding back that feeling and I didn’t know what, or I was denying its existence in an effort to keep going.

It’s four days past first day of the year. Nothing’s changed, no resolutions made.
It doesn’t work for me anyway.

Neither memory can remember
Nor history can recover
Things I would rather have no longer
Thoughts lost now and forever

Oh, hey, a bottle of scotch!


Carefully twist your words.

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