My Reelity

I realised that its very easy to underestimate one’s emotional being while digging up one’s past. Due to the fact that certain feelings and emotions have stayed buried and dormant for so long, its easy to feel that everything’s fine and dandy and that you’ll emerge from the dug site unfazed.

Wishful thinking.

Its like how some archaeologists poo-poo the idea of ancient tombs bearing curses and carried on with their digging despite the writing (or hierographics) on the wall.

Like I said, wishful thinking.

Photographs. Cards. Notes. Letters. Gifts.

Mementos.

Whats that line in the song again? Oh yes, “The memories are grey but man they are really coming back.”

And came back they did. Each bad one tearing an old wound anew. Each good one failing to lift a heart growing heavier with each “stone” I turned. A heart burdened with the increasing realisation of the futility of this search.

I might not have expected myself to be totally unfazed, but I certainly did not expect the deep sense of frustration that came over me after the search. And the frustration only grew further when I realised that I just really can’t find it on my own anymore.

There’s only one more place left for me to find the answer. It is my last resort, and its one that I had hoped I’ll never have to use.