The Price of Letting Go

by Anna Erickson

And as she goes through detangling every incident, every blurry area, and every word ever written with her love, she recognizes it wasn’t all wrong. No breaking point, no crime to charge, no sentence to blame, only a blurry area of uncertainty as all lines began to blur at the expense of her heart. A area where nothing was clear, not even able to distinguish if it was truly bad or good. Grey, the color of deception, seems to dilute her eyes. Her habits unravel, nothing is normal now and the floating in the unknown became a custom. Consumed by doubt, she lost sight on why she had entrusted someone else allowing herself to fall in love. Were my feelings wrong? - her whispers echo to her own mind behind mobs of long black coats and frozen rain boots. Now, resorting to the worst: denying herself, apologizing for how she can’t help but feel. Submerged in a incomprehensible abyss haunted by unanswered variables, it hurts to let go more than ever. It stings. Damn, there is nothing in life like that, is there? I’ve been there too, and you have too. You’re nodding your head now.