Sometimes it's easier to forget.

Other times it's easier to hold on to something that really matters to you.

I read my horoscope today. It told me that my "world-famous passion is nothing to sneeze at". Whatever that means.

Today i feel like crap. I feel like an overused kleenex.

Today is not my day like my horoscope says.

Today it is easier to forget.

I just wish that it was that simple. But it's not and Im afraid to say that it never will be.

I'm used to forgetting though. It's how i have survived everything in the past. Forgetting. It's the one thing that i seem to be mediocre at. I tell myself over and over that something isn't true, that i made it up in my mind and then, after hours of stabbing my brain with sharp lies, it sticks and i believe them. I forget everything that was ever horrible or wrong. I forget everything that was ever pain, that ever made me want to break down and cry, everything that i didn't want to remember.

But this time, it's different. I am afraid of forgetting, but it is so hard to remember. Every time i look at the pictures, at his shirt that is currently waded up into a ball on my floor, every time i look in his eyes something inside me sparks and then reality hits i realize that i will never be able to touch that cheek, that i will never smell his skin ever again, that i will never be completely with him ever again. And that sparks explodes into a huge black hole and sucks up everything inside me. It hurts.

I still wait around, hoping, wishing that he would call, just so i can hear his voice again. Sometimes i day-dream of him walking up to me in the hallway and taking me in his arms and kissing me. But it wont happen. Not now, not ever again.

But as i have been told, one too many times, there are plenty other fish in the sea. But i gave him my heart, and i have yet to get it back.

So even though i know that i should through away the photo of the two of us that haunts me from my bedside table at night, even though i know that i should erase the note he wrote on my white board, even though i know that i shouldn't sing along to Cabaret songs in his shirt that is big enough to be a skimpy dress on me. But i can't throw it away. Not yet.

If we cut out the bad
Well then we’d have nothing left
Like I cut up your mouth
The night I stuffed it all in
And you lied to the Angel
Said I stabbed you to death
If we go at the same time
They'll clean up the mess

"cut up angels"

the used