The Memory Warehouse.

memory

I’m meant to be looking for somewhere to live but after 10 minutes of looking its pretty clear that I’m not going to find a nice place of my own for my budget.

So 2 choices – either house share or a crappy scummy flat above a shop somewhere.

Choices, choice – well I’m going to go for a walk soon and have a think but that’s not what this post is about.

While packing my stuff i found a book that Dipstick (that what i’m going to call him from now on) brought for me about 9 months ago – Just about the time he started shagging her.

It saying in it ‘love you xxx’ it made me think. did he mean this at the time he wrote this?

I sat for a while and started thinking about the book itself.

Dream-catcher by Stephen King

The memory warehouse – i always loved the idea.

I wish i could climb up into mine and remove every piece of him.

But having sat here for a while – i was 11 when we met – how much would be left?

Not a lot i imagine!!

How many of my shelves would have nothing but spiders and cob webs filling them.

I genuinely feel like he is such a large piece of my life that has now gone.

How do i get past this?

I think of him a million times a day.

I wish i could open my memory warehouse and throw a Molotov cocktail in there.

I wish i could wake up and not remember any of him!

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