It’s like a small death. In so many ways. And perhaps that’s why it’s so tough for one to move on. To let go. The process of letting go is like slow death. Only, even though it’s somebody else that you’re killing from your memories (good and bad), since the memories are a part of you, it’s as if you’re killing a part of yourself.. slowly.. torturing a part of yourself to death. It’s so terribly painful. But then, it must be done to avoid the pain you feel right now, right?
There is a specific feeling which exists only when you run into someone you had long forgotten about. It’s probably most palpable when it’s an ex, but it can happen with friends who were once particularly close. It is comparable to a scab that seems to have been on your skin forever — a scrape which was once quite painful but has been so long in the healing process that you no longer notice its presence when you wash over it in the shower. You peel it off almost out of boredom and suddenly there is a drop or two of blood, something that vaguely resembles the wound it once was, now too distant to really cause any discomfort. These people are wounds which have healed over, which have never quite turned into scars but which have become just another part of your lived-in body.
Letting someone go — when…
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