you don’t remember it all that well. but it happened, didn’t it? if the photo albums have… anything to say about it.
and as your fingers graze through the layers of dust, cough a little, and wipe the years of history off on your cream-coloured dress.
you don’t remember it all that well. and yet you’re still shattered into pieces because of it. and sometimes, it all comes rushing back. and sometimes… it’s okay. you can move on, now. it doesn’t have to define you for the rest of your life, and you are so much more than all of the things other people may have said about you.
and sometimes you are there in my head. telling me who i am. and what to do. pinning me to the wall by my shoulders. and maybe i’ll stay there forever. because i would never want to upset you…
sometimes, i look you up on instagram. and i wonder what you’re up to.
but it’s long past time now. come on, little girl. wipe away the dust, and clear out the shelves of the stories they gave you.
it’s time… it’s time to write something new.
I’ve always been the type to get stuck in the past… well, more than a little bit. I’m definitely guilty of holding a grudge, and developing strong opinions based off past experiences. I think we all are, at least to some degree–it’s human nature.
And it’s also something I’ve been considering, of late. How, well, reflecting on the past is great, to a degree. But it can also be incredibly destructive. I’ve spent so long living my life based off what happened to me when I was seven. And… I’m not seven anymore.
For ages, those memories have governed everything I do, and honestly, it’s getting kind of old–living this kind of half-life, because all I can think about most days is keeping myself safe from ever being bullied like I was then again.
I’m just… I think, after so long, I’m ready to leave all the painful memories from that period of my life in the past. Not to forget that it happened–but to give it a funeral, and lay flowers on its grave, and take a deep breath… and move on to something new.
It’ll still come back to me, sometimes. Of course it will. And when it does, I will remind myself that I’m safe, and that things are better now. That I am worth so much more than the things that people said to me as a kid. And that I deserve to move past this. And so do you.
Lots of love,