I was listening to Gone by Gavin Luke, an orchestral beauty. It made me think of all that is gone. The strangest part was that the loss of those things/people doesn’t bother me anymore. A residual called guilt is still intact somewhere in the back of my head but slowly, I’m trying to heal myself by cutting out toxicity from my life. However, the future seems bleak when the ultimate source of toxicity is my mind! I can’t cut it out and neither do I have it in my hands, in the present situation to control it. You see, I’ve always had a habit of demeaning myself. The tiny voice inside my head is a pessimist. I wish I knew a way to wrap my head around this negativity but to tell you the truth, it’s been perpetuating ever since I actively decided to let it go. Letting go is a mess. An utterly profound mess that I sometimes write poems about. Writing helps to a great extent.
All is not gone now, there are still pieces of memories that hold me down.