Past
Past
So here's a novel idea--I'm just going to take the past and put it in a neat little shoe box, maybe from Aldo or ADIDAS, and I'll put every folded memory that I've treasured into straight little rows and even little piles--the box will still overflow . I'll place the little box on a little shelf in my mind for now, and I'll walk away. I'm off to better and happier things.
I've learned from my mistakes. I remember the lessons but forget the past. I'll push myself forward--I'm determined to achieve my goals. There's no time to linger on the past, no time for a mental breakdown. I have band and schoolwork and besides, my friends need someone to lean on. Why complain when you can't change anything, and why change anything when you can't complain?
Sure, I know the box is there. It has a name and everything. It's called the "Summer '08" situation. It's next to the "Christmas '06" and the "Spring Break '07" situations (those I put in soup cans. I didn't have any shoe boxes at the time, I improvised).
Maybe one day--when I'm strong enough--I'll take that neat little shoe box off the shelf. I'll sit on my bed, cross-legged and I'll blow the dust off the top and open it. No doubt it would be easier to understand. The piles would be just piles and the rows would just rows and what happened already happened and there's nothing I could do about it.
But the simplicity of it will hurt. It's something about realizing the truth. Either that I didn't love them, or that I did but it wasn't enough. Maybe I'll realize it really was all my fault, or really theirs. Or maybe it wasn't either of our faults.
I'll see, like I saw with the soup cans, that everything happens for a reason. It may take two years to realize it, but eventually I will.
Pulling out every single folded memory I've treasured will probably hurt the most. Not the bad memories, but the ones that made me smile and laugh. Memories of love and friendship. Happy things that have already happened and already past, and I'll have to realize I have to put these away with the bad as well.
At the end I'll finally know why it ended. Some good things fall out of place so you can mature and allow better things to come. Learn to love and learn to cry. Learn to laugh and learn to let go.
I'll fold up every little memory and put them back in place. Somehow the box is half empty and not as significant. I'll put it back up on a shelf next the soup cans and the past is the past again.
Eventually I'll do that, but not now. I'm still not strong enough and not enough time has passed. For now the shoe box will sit on a shelf in my mind next to the soup cans, overflowing with memories I choose to ignore. The past is the past--that is, until I'm ready to deal with it.
I've learned from my mistakes. I remember the lessons but forget the past. I'll push myself forward--I'm determined to achieve my goals. There's no time to linger on the past, no time for a mental breakdown. I have band and schoolwork and besides, my friends need someone to lean on. Why complain when you can't change anything, and why change anything when you can't complain?
Sure, I know the box is there. It has a name and everything. It's called the "Summer '08" situation. It's next to the "Christmas '06" and the "Spring Break '07" situations (those I put in soup cans. I didn't have any shoe boxes at the time, I improvised).
Maybe one day--when I'm strong enough--I'll take that neat little shoe box off the shelf. I'll sit on my bed, cross-legged and I'll blow the dust off the top and open it. No doubt it would be easier to understand. The piles would be just piles and the rows would just rows and what happened already happened and there's nothing I could do about it.
But the simplicity of it will hurt. It's something about realizing the truth. Either that I didn't love them, or that I did but it wasn't enough. Maybe I'll realize it really was all my fault, or really theirs. Or maybe it wasn't either of our faults.
I'll see, like I saw with the soup cans, that everything happens for a reason. It may take two years to realize it, but eventually I will.
Pulling out every single folded memory I've treasured will probably hurt the most. Not the bad memories, but the ones that made me smile and laugh. Memories of love and friendship. Happy things that have already happened and already past, and I'll have to realize I have to put these away with the bad as well.
At the end I'll finally know why it ended. Some good things fall out of place so you can mature and allow better things to come. Learn to love and learn to cry. Learn to laugh and learn to let go.
I'll fold up every little memory and put them back in place. Somehow the box is half empty and not as significant. I'll put it back up on a shelf next the soup cans and the past is the past again.
Eventually I'll do that, but not now. I'm still not strong enough and not enough time has passed. For now the shoe box will sit on a shelf in my mind next to the soup cans, overflowing with memories I choose to ignore. The past is the past--that is, until I'm ready to deal with it.