Move On and Let Go
 

For the millionth time, I read the note once more. The same note that I’ve read over and over during the past couple years. I don’t know why I keep reading it when it only hurts even more each time I read it. Maybe I should burn it. . .get rid of it. . .make it disappear. . .just like she did, all those years ago. Each time I read it, it brings me back to those moments in my life. On that day, I broke down. I slowly slipped into insanity, not knowing what to do anymore. I was lost. I was scared. I was broken. I was lonely.
Each time I read it, the same thoughts kept popping into my head over and over. The image of her leaving was burned into my brain, staying there forever. “Hey, don’t let it all get to your head.” my friend said as he placed his hand on my shoulder. “You’ll move on eventually.” he said once more while I simply nodded in response. They all say to let go of her. They all say to move on completely. They all say that it’s what she would want me to do and that it’s the best thing to do. They all try to comfort me, but to no avail. I really want to move on and let go. It’s something I’ve been wanting for so long. But for some reason, I just couldn’t. I still couldn’t understand it.  I couldn’t let go of the fact that she’s gone. Completely out of my life, forever and ever. The note was a reminder of that. A reminder that she left me, all alone. Each night, it becomes even more difficult to sleep. Like a flash of lightning, she’s in my dreams as soon as I close my eyes. Every time I go to bed, my mind begins to run through all the times and moments of her. I don’t fair much better during the day either.  At work, I tend to space-out and lose myself entirely as if I was lost in a forest. It's a forest I want to get out of. A forest I want to run away from and never look back at. I want to move on and let go. Part of me truly wants that. On the other hand, part of me doesn’t want to abandon her completely and hope for the best. Hoping that some type of miracle can save me from all of this despair and suffering.
That part of me is clinging on for dear life. . .but I want it to die. I need it to die. If that part of me dies, then I’ll be free from all of this. Free from the pain. Free from the torture. Then she will truly be out of my life completely. All of this makes me angry and frustrated. I just want to lash out at something. . . anything to get my mind off of these thoughts completely.  I’m not sure whether I’ll be happy or not once I do. I don’t even have a clue of what to do afterwards. All I know is that I want all of this to end. . .