Stupidity Preserved.

I don't know why I've kept many old AIM conversations. Sensitive ones, let's say. And I don't know why, when I was looking for some comedy clips in old folders, I decided to open the few I came across.

And I ended up getting slammed in the chest with about a year's worth of awful, frustration, heartbreaking, soul-wrenching, cringeworthy memories. In the span of about 45 seconds.

I feel like I was hit in the chest by a Mac truck. And it's a bit hard to breathe, for the next few minutes. And I can't for the life of me figure out why I keep these fucking conversations, so innocently tucked into various archived folders, jumping out at me when I least suspect and need the emotional journey back through some of the very hardest times of my life.

But I also see just how far I've come, how much love I've lost, how many friends turned out to not be friends at all. They are bittersweet, these dark, liquid memories of mine. And yet, when I am presented with them, I cannot help but to drink deeply. I quaff of my own pain and misery, and when the tears flow, when old wounds thought to be long healed are shown to still bleed, I sadistically, masochistically- deem my thirst quenched.

I don't know if I'll ever know why I do this to myself. I don't know if there will ever come a day when I shall see those old files (for deleting them is just simply out of the question) and be able to resist opening them like sutures on a wound. Maybe one day.

Maybe one day when my life is stable and full of people who bring me as much joy as I try to bring them, maybe I'll be whole enough to open these files and see that these old wounds are nothing but faded scars. When I love someone completely, with all my heart, with the certainty they will treasure it more carefully than they do their own. One day, I shall be able to open these files, read them one last time while shaking my head at my past self, and delete them.

When donkeys fly.

edit: comments fixed. Damn you blogspot! JK ilu.


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