The new moon is approaching, and I feel like vomiting again. I want to. Because I want to spit you out. Not just you — every single minuscule feeling I have for you. Everything. Is there a way to mush it all together into a ball and just puke it out? Heave and hurl until there's nothing left inside me, until it's all expelled? Once and for all.
I've tried it so many times, in so many different ways, to let it all go, to let you go. Release rituals I learned from indigenous people: speak it out loud and give it back to nature. I have told my pain to so many stones, thrown countless pebbles and rocks into the River Thames, sent the ashes of love letters I burnt off with the wind... I set my pain free in so many ways. This feeling. You.
I thought the river could wash away my sorrow, my emotions, my regrets — mostly you. I thought the universe would hear my request and straight away wipe out the memories and a whole existence. And in a way, it always worked. I know I was heard, because I felt it as I endured ego death each time I did the ritual. That was always the answer I got — and it still is, right now: do you think you can just throw love into the river? Do you think that just because it hurts, you can shove it down and out, and then it would just be over? Do you really think your ego is stronger than this whole thing? You're so naïve.
Still. Even so. I can keep throwing rocks into the water, burning letters till they're ashes in the wind, telling my story to the trees in parks — but I'm starting to think there is no end in sight. No bottom to this well. It's so far down it's unfathomable from up here. I surrendered myself over and over to this journey, and yet, I have no other choice but to fall to my knees and bow my head to the universe.
I think you will remain a forever-wound. One that will ache from time to time — but again, I can't see where it starts and where it ends. It must be infinite, so vast that I can't fathom how much of it is part of me, how much of me has been absorbed and consumed already.
I want to spit it out, but how? Can I cry till my own tears become a river? Am I allowed to vomit it all up? Am I allowed to scream it out? Is there even a point? Because I don't think so. My flesh is taken over by this by now. And pieces of you are already settling somewhere in the North Sea, but the rest is still inside me. And I'm starting to think no river or ocean in existence could wash it out.
This feeling. You.
