When I try to cope, I write. Emotions are easier to let go once I'm able to gather up the words to label them and see them printed in what used to be a blank screen. But sometimes, emotions overpower me that I dig deep only to find nothing. On those days, I borrow the words of other people.

Like today.

When It’s Time To Go

JUN. 25, 2012 

By KIRSTEN CHEN 

(an excerpt)
We go and we let go and, sometimes, we are let go of.


Occasionally, we remain relatively rational about it all — the going, the leaving. Our bottom voice might have been making noise about it for a little while, and so our top voice finally speaks up. More often than not though, we are left feeling desolate, struck by the leftover remnants of transiency. We beg our parents, or someone, to stay a bit longer. We shout that we are not yet tired, that there is still something worth staying for. We become aware that a memory can be a very painful thing.


But we will invest in faith or forgetfulness in order to move forward. We will learn to live without the keepsakes that we never thought we could. We will accept that, yes, a memory can be a painful thing, but a dazzling thing — a wonderfully intricate thing, too. It is the most invaluable keepsake we have. So, we unfreeze. We gather our antiqued snap shots and place them one on top of the other, back into the drawers of our mind until the next tap on the shoulder, the next blow to the heart. Before we can help it, the lucidity fades. Everything begins to swirl together, again — chromatic aberration of the memory. And once again, it is time to go.


I feel a pain in my gut as I write this. It's not a throbbing pain in the chest, like what I've expected. It hurts like how my muscles felt the first time I tried yoga. It's the feeling you get when you do an intense workout for the very first time. You feel it spread all over your body, but not too deeply, not until your core.

And like any other muscle pain, I just need a good night's sleep to wash this all way.
See you in the morning.