The Ring

For our birthday the year you died, mom gave me a ring. This ring sparkled like your eyes, had a depth like your soul, and was your favorite shade of green. I never took this ring off. In fact, one could almost describe me as protective, obsessive over it. For me this was more than just a ring. It represented my journey without you, my new beginning, me carrying you on with me.

This ring was you.

December 22, 2012. The day that I took the ring off and never put it back on.

My therapist says it's a good sign. That it means I am finally starting to feel you in me. I know otherwise. I'm not wearing it to purposely forget about you. For my memories are still just of our darkest hours together. And those memories aren't worth the good ones we had.

I tell myself that I am doing this to be strong when I know that I'm weak. I'm running away, knowing that eventually everything will catch up to me. I'm keeping my guard up, knowing that I'll drive away all those that I love.

I'm doing this because everything else is just too hard, too painful. I'm doing this because, right now, this is all I know. 

I know nothing else. 

No fears and limitless, MHF