i float on a line

I just watched a scene in some movie on TV where the girl caught her boyfriend in bed with another woman. After breaking up with him (smart girl), she goes to a bridge and throws the ring (not engagement) he gave her into the river. So there is a lot between all of that and after that, but the rest of it doesn’t matter. Granted its also a movie and she’s an actress, but she was so distressed and just burst into hysterical tears. The kind of crying that wracks your whole body and soul and breaks your heart completely in two. I’ve done that kind of crying before. The only difference is that my crying took place days, weeks, even months after the destruction of my heart and her crying took place that very day. Which is better?

I don’t like to throw things out. From third-grade papers to notes from a boyfriend, I tend to keep everything – for posterity’s sake. It’s interesting to me to look back on things years later. It reminds me of the past and what I went through. It allows me to remember what I was feeling at that moment. They are my memories. Except that I don’t just keep the happy memories. I keep the sad, the bad and the horrid as well. They are as much a part of me as the good ones. The things that remind me of pain I went through are no less a part of me than the things that remind me of happiness. Initially, the painful things produce a heart-wrenching pain and subsequent crying. But eventually, that pain diminishes to a dull ache of rememberance. Or does it?

I’ve kept lots of things over the years. Every once in a while, I try to weed things out. Get rid of things that no longer mean anything to me. My first ex-boyfriend box was duct taped shut and shoved in the dark recesses of my closet. I opened it up again a few years later, hoping to be able to look at the things without losing my mind. It didn’t work so well. The box didn’t get retaped, but its shoved under my bed. I brought it out once at a party to show someone a picture and I lost it. Yager found me sitting on the floor in tears. I wasn’t hysterical, but I couldn’t stop crying or looking at the pictures. I’ve kept everything in the box, unable to throw any of it out. I haven’t opened it since that party.

My question is which is healthier? To throw the ring into the river and erase any existance of him in your life or keep the rememberances locked up in a box until you can deal with them. The box is filled with things I still care about, things I still want to remember. But in remembering, am I unable to move on, unable to really get over it? Or does the girl in my story regret throwing the ring out? Does she ever wish she had a piece of something to remember her two-year relationship?

God Help Me This Time
I’m Really Trying to Try
I just feel like I’m Waiting For Nothing
I Float on a line

My Heart’s been pounding all day
Like I’ve been running away
I know this evening, you’ll be sleeping
Where I wanna be

Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Til I Cry You Out of Me
Til I Cry You Out of Me

We could meet in my mind
Leave this all behind
I just wanna taste you, face you
Reflect in your eyes

Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Til I Cry You Out of Me
Til I Cry You Out of Me

I start to shake and my breathing
Has no meaning
And I’m living, livin a lie
No I don’t understand
I’m half alive

God Help Me This Time
I’m Really Trying to Try

Maybe I’ll Just Run Away
Til I Cry You Out of Me
Til I Cry You Out of Me
Til I Cry You Out of Me
Til I Cry You Out of Me

Till I Cry You Out of Me ~ Sozzi