i am impossible.
all of the things that have hurt me are still trailing behind me, selves upon selves following in a line like a train of small children, each one slower than the last, the progress infinitely stalled. a round of stationary ghosts flickering in and out of one another but never really moving.
i can count them, make lists, rehash them in detail, but i cannot let them go.
sometimes there is a force in me so strong saying forget it all, feel nothing. i know i am capable of it and that is more terrifying than holding on. part of me holds on because i feel like i will lose something integral in letting go, some sense of self. that in letting go, it is as if saying none of it mattered, and that i don't care.
but how could it not matter, how could i possibly not care? it never stops being meaningful to me.