Memories

Some memories are the haunting, the cold in the marrow of our bones. Some memories knock on our door and beg that we spend eternity with them, suffering but we dont have to. We could end it right here, cartalize the wound. Severe the ties we have built with the memories that feel like nightmares. The ones that caused the PTSD, hands shaking, voice rattling. Memories of us are like a torture device I have yet to escape. I could end my memory of you and not even blink, no grieving. I imagine it would feel like a release. A release from the shackles you once bound tightly around my heart. I wonder if the wounds would stop aching. Some memories fester and rot out the core of the very few happy ones. I realize now they are just memories, I can let them go, set them free like balloons being released when someone dies. I dont have to stay here, I am not that little girl, cowering anymore. I have the power. I had it all along but somehow forgot. I will release you from my mind, tie a "get well soon" balloon around the wounds that still need mending. I dont have to stay here reliving nightmares. You are nothing but a ghost and I know how to perform the exorcism. This is a goodbye letter to all the memories I let you live on in. You cant haunt someone who forgot that you existed in the first place. -M.D. Long