Letting Go

So here it is, in front of me, glaring at me with all its vulgarity and perceived ugliness. I detest it with all of my being and have found means to achieve that seeming heaven. Please note, gentle reader, I have the means to rid myself of this sore, I hold in my hand the key to the door through which I can send this wolf running out of my life and I am simply holding that key and staring at it. There is an immense pain that fills me at the thought of letting go of this miserable thorn embedded deep into my flanks. The thought that I might no longer have this, with which I have spent a long time, makes me disappointed and my heart grows heavy with the weight of that realisation.

Nevertheless, I open the door and watch this witch walk away through that door and in her wake I feel pain. I feel a deep longing for what might have been possible had this headache not become thus. An urge rushes to my throat to call out and ask it to stop and undo all that made it sickening and gross.

But I don't. I let the snake slither away and watch with amazement at the sheer volume of remorse that shrouds my heart and mind. How could I, who hated this city or woman or job or bike or some such disposable entity (and what isn't!), yearn for it to remain with me after having suffered untold pain in my association with it? It amazes me.

Recently, a friend of mine too went through something like this as she quit her job with a company which hardly gave her anything and treated her poorly. I had also gone through similar pain when I left a company that I so eagerly wanted to quit. But on the day I quit, I felt innumerous misgivings and sadness and I kept turning around to see the building fade behind others as I drove away.