#Day 621: Traps For The Past


What happens to the death of a memory is what I was so afraid to discover.
Nothing happens.
Your memories die. You cut people out. You walk away from people who spread into your bloodstream like venom. You turn your back on the cat calling and the booing, you turn away from all the pain. You shed your skin, you put on a new one.
But then, the ghosts of your past revisit. All your old stories come back to bite you in the ass. What they say to you will be a slap across your face. What they tell you at 1AM hits home. Because even if you’re happy, even if you’re faking a laugh, they know who you used to be. The demon that perches down your shoulder has been in their sight forever.  They haunt your worst nightmares, and colour in your black and white life with disease. They have the power to cut every wing and pull you down.
Don’t give them that power.
I did.
And as I write this at 3AM, I ask you to not give your ghosts that power. They can bleed your heart and pierce your souls in ways no one should. Don’t let your memories, don’t let the people drag you down.
You’re stronger than you think and even if you have nothing to fall back on, remember that your ghosts are only that. They’re dead. You killed them for a reason.
Hold that thought and walk away. Walk away from the wreckage. Walk away from your ghosts, trap them in the past.
Walk away.


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