Letting go of things feels good. My feelings don’t change slowly very often, it’s usually lightening fast.
One of these days I need to write a poem about joy, or a description, because I haven’t found one that clicks with me yet.
I have a problem with keeping too many thoughts in my head that’s tied to not letting go of things. I write lists and journal entries and blog posts, I scan pictures and take lots of photographs. I go over moments in my head, tracing them to try and make them stick. I keep a dream journal and an agenda and never delete even the bad memories.
Maybe I’ll be ready forget some of these things that made me unhappy sometime in the future. But I’m still too scared to right now, because it’s never as slimple as letting go off the bed and keeping the good, they’re connected and I’m not sure I can afford to lose any happy memories just yet.
Or maybe I’m just a little bit crazy, but I’m okay with that.