exorcise

you wake up with a jerk, the dream images fade away to the back of your head as your eyes stream new ones to your brain. The dream's gone. Finally, everything fades except the warmth. Then that too goes, leaving behind just a memory. You hate this. A memory is interchangeably similiar to other memories, and can be forgotten. You don't want that. you fumble through old photographs, run fingers across them hoping to remember that which is gone. It never works. you've tried to move on. Found new people, immersed yourself in hobby projects, self-improvement regimens, gorged on fatty foods.... friends give you space, listen to your tale over a beer, clap your shoulder supportively. In the end, you get off the topic, you're secretly afraid of becoming a bore. You are extra careful with people now. once in a while, you lie on the couch, stare at the t.v and sob you keep wondering "what if .. ?" you actually end up boring a lot of people to tears. You don't want to talk about what's on your mind. You can't talk anything else. You come up with a lot of talk that goes nowhere. things end up going for a toss more often. Reality runs by like an unscripted movie. You can only shrug...
six-to-eight months have gone by. Meaning has returned, so has sense, the scars are more or less healed, but the happy-sad memories come in waves once in a while - reminding you of the immense happiness of those days . You sit at work unable to concentrate, and play little animated games while your boss watches helplessly - yet you are surer of yourself and at peace. you are adrift, looking for a ride to hitch. and you still keep looking back while the memories get smaller, shorter and dryer with each passing day until finally you can look back and not shake -and then you can now start removing the pieces of shrapnel - the thorns, one by one, piece by little piece ...