Bags of Change

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I finally did it. I finally took that ugly brown bag of all my things that belonged to your home, which became my home for the time that it was.
I finally dumped all of its contents out on my floor.
I looked down at history.
I looked down at our history; my history.

I put this off for two weeks because well...
1. mostly I was lazy
2. eh, I don't want to deal with it
3. this is gonna bring up some emotional shit
4. fuck

I remember quickly stuffing this brown bag of my things, crammed in a small space, like my heart felt that night.

So here are the remnants of what once was, still laying on the floor. As I am giving more love to myself, to my close friends, to my moments, I'm past the broken promises and the sweet nothings once said, which now feel like wisps of wind. You chose to erase me from your life; I choose to celebrate and learn from it.

I recycled the bag. I'm ok. I'll put away the remnants tomorrow- parts of history recycled, parts of me recycled.

May the world bring back to me everything that I have given it.

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