With This Ring...

Dear Readers,

It amazes me how much a material possession can mean to a person. How much history and emotion can be stored in a tiny circle of metal and stone. When it was given to me it was symbol of love and a promise of forever. It was proof that I was good enough. That after years of waiting it had finally been decided that I was good enough for forever. And my dreams were coming true.

And then it became a reminder of the lies. Of the pain. Of the broken promises. It was a circle of bad memory that sat in drawers and boxes and haunted me. I knew that I needed to get rid of it. And when things got tough I resolved every time to sell it. And sabotaged every single attempt. Slept too late or ran out of time. Posted it online and left out key information so that no one would inquire about it. Yesterday I actually made it all the way into a pawn shop. Telling myself that I was finally getting rid of it. But not unless I could get at least half its original cost. Once again making it impossible to be rid of it.

Until I gave up. I broke down in tears in the middle of the pawn shop and sold it. And cried. For longer than I should have. And then went and bought myself lunch. Filled my car up with gas. Tomorrow I plan to get the oil changed in my car and buy some groceries.

That's what that piece of metal and stone means now. It's help out of a desperate situation. It's a way to and from work, a way to see my friends. A way to feed myself.

And somehow the memory of the haunting is still haunting me.

Feeling emotionally torn,
Your Lonely Dreamer