Letting Go

I thought about you today and,
for the first time in a long time,
I didn’t obsess over the thought.
I neither bent, nor broke.
Although you gave me a life,
I can no longer accept that which you provided.
No longer will I gaze into the mirror,
longingly wondering which would break first,
the mirror or my being as a whole.
The recollection of feeble attempts I had made to fill the void in my soul invoke bile from within me.
Gazing at the ceiling, sweating profusely, as if every drop were a tear being sent from every inch, every pore of my battered body, will no longer be a daily routine.
In the past I’d reminisce on the time we’d spent together in wonder.
Until I realized that I was living on borrowed time.
Time that I will never be able to pay back in full.
Nearly all color had drained from my view, leaving only shades of grey, along with the occasional bloody red or dull blue.
I had been blinded to the beauty the Holy Spirit had blessed us.
For many moons I lived this way, seemingly a ghost wandering purgatory, awaiting judgment.
The assumption of where I was headed ate away at my conscience.
But I came to realize, in light the darkness must fade, for they cannot coexist.
It was in the moment of reckoning I realized that just as light and dark, misery couldn’t occupy my mind if I expelled the emotions it related to.
For misery loves company, but the friendship which it provided is something I neither desire, nor can accept.
No longer will I be enslaved, weighed down by chains wrapped around my ankles.
Today is the first day I gained the strength to break the chains.
Although tomorrow I know I must break them again.