Snow has frozen my progress. Planned trip to sell the things I've held onto - cancelled. So they sit in boxes next to my TV, staring me in the face. The rest of it sits beneath the white blanket outside in a cold steel dumpster. Truth be told I almost filled half of the damn thing.
There is one more bag....
A blue one. Fitting, since the things inside of it make my insides that color. Even so, I can't part with them. Not yet. Just like those troublesome memories that make this place colder than the frozen things outside my window.
I should feel better. I should feel cleansed. I should feel like this whole thing is an adventure.
But I don't. I'm angry. As I purge everything from my home, I remember how I used to believe I had everything. A great job. A future. A home. A love I thought was true. Now I have none of it. I'm starting over, from the absolute bottom.
Believing now as I did when I was a child (that everything will turn out) I can't help but wonder what really will happen to me now.
The snow has not stopped.
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