When we decided to cut contact, I took all pictures, all letters, all the little reminders down. The files on my computer that has to do with him, I put in locked folders. I took all his poems and the old edition of his book, and put them with everything else, every physical proof of his existance, in a locked box, in the back of my closet. The necklace his girlfriend got me last christmas, and the necklace I used to wear to always remember him, a cross with an angel wing hanging around it. Everything was put away.
It seems... impossible. To take 6 years and put them in a tiny box. It should be a whole chest, it should have its own room. But it's so small. So insignificant. It's just plain wrong. That such a big part of me, fits into this tini tiny box, when the memories and emotions barely fit in my heart and mind.
Some things have gotten completely unrealistic, this last year.
And now I'm wearing my cross again. Just to have him with me, in some form.
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