Pack it Up

I was talking to a friend today whom I love dearly about emotions and relationships and heartache. We talked about punching trees (it felt right) to release frustration and how sometimes it truly feels like you've been left raw and bleeding. In a way, set out on the street for people to stare at. That's how vulnerable life can leave us feeling sometimes, amirite? 

And with all of that, we build up experiences and chide ourselves for not learning and not knowing better. 

We claim to carry baggage and to come with a prescribed list of problems and oddities. We have battle wounds. We come with a self-plastered warning label. 

You know, as humans I think we talk about emotional scars often because we all have them. Because we want to relate. They are all very personal but none more so than in love. At least that's what I've been hearing lately. That's what everyone's being laying at my feet. A whole lot of aching.

Maybe it's the smell of their perfume. Their favorite song comes on, your heart drops and you let your hand pass over their favorite pack of gum in the store and you wonder why you feel such a pang, so much so that you could drop to the floor of aisle 15. A book of matches. A fucking sock left behind, a paper clip--it doesn't matter, memory comes clawing down your back and burns every bit of the way.

This isn't baggage. Baggage is something you pack. Baggage is what you willing take with you in tiny zipped bags inside of other bigger zipped bags and baggage is optional. Hurt isn't baggage. Memories aren't baggage. Feel all the things and cry every single tear. Retrace every single inch of their fingertips on your flesh and recall their image in your head like a movie screen....do it as many times as you want but then roll those things up and put them in suitcases and leave them at the bus station. Go and don't look back.

 I'm not saying you won't still feel pain. You should. You're human. With pain is strength and growth and solidarity. But know you don't have to carry it all with you. You can unpack...cliche as it is. Your feelings are not baggage. Your experiences are not baggage. How you choose to react to them decides the weight of your load.

 I don't want you to be heavy anymore.

Pack that shit in an old duffel bag. Bury it in a field. Set it on fire (too far?) I'm here to help..

  I love you all.