If there is anything I have never excelled at, it is letting go. Of thoughts, of feelings, of people. It's not that I want any of it back, no, I have accepted the loss - these things, these humans that have come and gone. It's simply that they have coloured me in a way that I sometimes don't enjoy, like a terrible tattoo you regret forever. I've perhaps tried to cover them with others or blend them into a new design, but I'm no tattoo artist, I can easily say that much.
You're tired of secrets, you say, and it's strange enough you'd feel that way. They're not mine, anyway, it's not as though I can tell you what to do with them in the end. I've my own. We all do. I am never quite sure why anyone would even try to unwind a web so tangled as the one you created between and around us. Sometimes it is better to abandon and move on, I think, to keep the scars inside of us as memories, to learn from them. I don't know if there is enough room in the world for all the darkness we keep inside ourselves.
If only we were honest with ourselves more of the time. If only we were these open books, all our flaws and scars there for all to see. How much less misery we might inflict upon each other, ourselves. These strange, secret lives we all live.. who we appear to be and who we really are when you peel away the layers.
Sometimes it really feels like I am nothing but these ugly, withered layers, like there is nothing left inside anymore. Nothing worth saving. It gets tiresome, this hanging on, this waiting for the light to shine through the broken bits of this world I have created around myself. Just keep swimming, they say, no matter how tired. It is still more pleasant than drowning.
This is one of those days where I just have to sit in the dark listening to Coldplay's I'll see you soon until I find that piece of myself that steps in and pushes the rest of me out into the light again.