A few days ago I sat down & wrote letters. Letters that explicitly spelled out my pain, hoping to relieve me from it. Some I intended to mail so that others would know my pain, some I thought I would hold on to so I could remember my pain, others I wasn't quite sure what to do with. I kept these letters for 3 days. I read them over & over again. Putting pen to paper released some of my pain, sure. But each time I read my words it bounced right back to me, tenfold.
On the third day, I received an internal slap in the face. "Remember my pain?" I thought to myself, "Who the fuck wants to hold on to that forever? Do YOU?" I also asked myself if I wanted to be that person: You hurt me so I hurt you back & try to make you just as miserable. I don't want to be that person. I am not that person. I finally, finally understood I was the one allowing the pain to continue by letting it take up residence within me. I knew I wanted to release it.
I want to share beauty, light, purpose, music, love....
I burned those pages & pages of hurt & anger. And as I placed each page into the flames I said out loud, "I release you. Goodbye."
Sounds corny as hell, but damn if it didn't work.
With each page burned, a boulder removed itself from my chest. And as I watched the pages turn to ashes & disappear I realized all those words, the pain & anger, were no longer mine. They. Were. Gone.
And now I am finally free to fly.
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