I was cleaning out a drawer today and found a 3×3 post-it note I had written when I was so scared you were going to leave me.
My heart broke when I wrote the words, and I stuck the note on the inside of my pen drawer.
I don’t know about this shadow of heartbreak I feel when I look at the note now.
Maybe I’m blocking it off, bottling it up, compartmentalizing it somehow.
Maybe it’s time. Or therapy. Or medication.
Maybe it’s just a good day.
Also, I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t read it too many times. Each reading is a little bit harder on my heart.
I figure I should capitalize on this feeling of not feeling so deeply, and I find the lighter.
I don’t know if it helped, or not.
I bet I could find some more things to burn to test out the theory.
Anyone want to come to a campfire in my backyard?