Funeral for yesterday

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A short story about moving ahead . . .

Many things about my past I can remember and tolerate. I recall them and cringe and blush and feel what I felt and kinda want to die a little. Like that one time I said that stupid line to that one girl who just stared at me like I had roaches crawling out of my nose. Or that other time when I bought that guitar and sang a song in front of the class, and everybody laughed and I didn't know why until later and it was because my fly was down. Or when I wrote that cheesy love letter and accidentally put it in the wrong locker. Those things are embarrassing memories, but like I said, I can tolerate them.

But there's one memory that I just can't stand. The memory of her. The one girl that managed to create that burning fire inside me; a fire so bright that it still hasn't burnt out. Why? No, not 'why?'. More like, how? How did she manage to addict me to her? How on Earth did it happen? I swore on that first day that I would only be her friend, but days later we were kissing and I wanted to be with her forever. Now she's long gone and I haven't heard of her in months. Why is she still in my heart? Can't she ust leave me alone?

If I had a billion dollars, I would send it to some brilliant scientist to develop a machine that would erase memories. I'd immediately zap my brain and evaporate Her from my mind. But I don't have a billion dolalrs, and I don't think such machine would work, but there's only one thing I could do to leave my addiciton behind.

I should kill Yesterday.

Forget the past. I don't know how I'm gonna do it, but I have to. It's the only way. I have to kill

 

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