How does one ever track which moments to remember and which ones to forget? When do memories turn sour to unwanted? She didn’t know. She stared at her wall of memories. It was full of paintings, pictures, post cards and signposts. Many of which were irrelevant in her life at this point. She imagined at a later point, it wouldn’t necessarily be so.
Many times, people walked in and out of her life. She hadn’t chosen to close doors completely; leaving them ajar had led to increased work for her. Yet, bolting them shut never occurred to her. She ran a quick glance over that painting as she took it down. Try as she might, it reminded her of a path she was not willing to take. She wrapped it up and put it into a box. She taped it up and scribbled on top, “Open when already depressed”. She even managed a giggle as she put that exclamation point at the end.
How many times before had she willingly allowed herself to be hurt? Too many to count? Physical injuries were so tangible that she didn’t dare repeat the errors. The mental ones pacified her into tolerance. They goaded her into acceptance and reminiscence. She felt overwhelmed. Is it truly so hard to judge and quantify heart ache? Then, how does one judge which memories to let go off and which to hold onto?
She stared at her wall, now with the missing painting. The void spoke eloquently and coherently; the absence could still be felt.