Periodless Prose

Best way to start the day. Writing notes in a REAL journal. Pen and paper.

based on nothing much but assumption and observation of people’s emotions and feelings, I’d say letting go is probably the hardest thing to do– think of all those times you didn’t let go of your mother’s hand as a child when you were scared and overwhelmed by the vast size of all the unfamiliarity around you when you stepped into a whole new world that you’ve never seen before– think of all the times that you played tug-o-war over the most minute things with your sibling, cousin, friend because you wanted it badly as if it was the key to your existence– all those times you’ve missed an opportunity to succeed because you didn’t study enough or you missed the basket by a single inch and it haunted you that you could have done better, and regret sinks into your conscience like teeth in soft butter and you can’t let go of those toxic thoughts– think of those moments that saying goodbye left a pang every time and you wish you never had to leave their sight because being in their presence meant forgetting about all the things that they keep you from smiling about– and then think about that time that the tide had to turn and you found the seat across from you empty and how hearing the echoes of their voice used to be the sweetest tunes of your favorite love song but now it’s nothing more than a crushing sound that pulls your heart down to your stomach like the pit of a peach and you miss them so much but you had to let go, but letting go feels like you’ve lost a part of yourself as well

if letting go was easy, your hands wouldn’t be shaking as you write this and you wouldn’t need Freud to tell you why your dreams are the only places that you see them these days and you wouldn’t have to wake up in a cold sweat and a racing heart like it was real life– if letting go was easy you’d never confuse their middle name or birthday or favorite ice cream with someone else’s but you had to act like that slip didn’t derail you but in reality your nerves were on edge because you didn’t even realize how much they’ve subconsciously snuck into your frontal lobe– if letting go was easy, you wouldn’t have to wish that you were fifty shades of drunk just to have an excuse to send an intoxicated text because you know that during the day you wouldn’t have the guts to face any possibility of rejection– but the nighttime, it’s so dark that it feels like they can’t really see you and with the filter of your buzzed mind it seems like the stars and the bottle in your hand are telling you to go on ahead and say what you really feel– people should start saying how they really feel

but if letting go was that easy, you wouldn’t know how to hold a gentle egg with no mother in sight and it’s about to crack open in your calloused hands, just like your cracked heart that you’ve learned to nurture and love over time even when they’ve left you– if letting go was easy, nobody would ever read Chamber of Secrets because they wouldn’t give a fuck about what happens to Harry, and Snape would never be the compassionate hero that he is after he lost Lily and you wouldn’t have understood why Descartes cared so much about deducting X from Z and you’d never have bothered to learn how to put a bandage on your emotional scars and you wouldn’t know to go to church on weekdays when you’re lost– if letting go was easy, you’d fill your loneliness up person after person without any second thoughts and you’d feel cheaper than a chipped penny that you know people wouldn’t waste their breath to pick up and worse than a train that’s wrecked and you wonder how you’ll get back on track and find your way again–

but it isn’t that easy, and you’ll be absolutely okay

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