Monsters under the bed . . . .

"A old memory of hers and a new misery of mine"

Time heals only what we choose and allow it to heal. If we hold on to a hurtful memory, well . . . . seems impossible to distinguish who has a hold on whom. Sometimes we can't tell the prison from the prisoner.

Do know someone who can tell you the time and the day someone broke their heart? Do know someone who becomes depressed and physically ill on the anniversary of that debacle? Sometimes we find ourselves arguing with ourselves over why and how could they do this to me? If we never reconcile the act, we are doomed to relive that moment over and over again. Yes, monsters under the bed do live in the memory of many heart broken souls. They seem somehow held prisoner in the confines of time, time and time again.

I once knew a Lady who was a prisoner, 

 "We spoke of little green monsters and an old memory, two in the same. A memory of a Valentine's day betrayal and a hollow promise. A choice made by the one who said he loved only her. A choice to satisfy a need to be loved, physically, not truly. A moment of passion for all the wrong reasons, a choice of selfishness made in the heat of self-indulgence and primeval lust. A choice forgotten by the perpetrator but never by the one who truly loved him. She simply blamed herself and let the guilty party go free. She did keep that memory, that little monster from yesterday. That little monster even celebrated each and every anniversary of the unforgettable act. The Lady celebrated with him, every Valentine’s Day. Not by choice but because she has no choice. The celebration was spent with old friends, too. Guilt, Shame, Insecurity, Misery and Alcohol were all in attendance and in great abundance. They partied late into the night, spinning tales of that dark day and giving still more reasons and opinions of why. They stayed well beyond their welcome and well beyond reason, too."

The little monster under her bed is still present, as far I know. All those who loved her begged her to set him free. She could not. It seems that there will be no reconciliation, only anniversaries spent with the friends of the monster who lives under her bed and in her own mind.

"I wanted to free her from the past, but how? I didn't even know there were monsters under her bed. And yet, living among the dust bunnies were little dark forms in the shape of a troll. Memories doomed to be eternally damned and sentenced to haunt the heart of the Lady, forever, Amen."

In my mind, I can't help but believe . . . . The person who lived through the heart break of that tragic moment did perish, long ago. Today there are a better person for all their pain. We don't have to give refuge to little monsters under the bed. We need to let that hurtful memory die and force him to take his partners in crime with him to his grave.

What is past is past. 

The person we used to be is simply that, Someone who lives only in our memories.

If you met the old you on the street, you wouldn't know them. I am sure you wouldn't want to be them. The you of today is so much more experienced, knowledgeable and better looking, too.

Excerpts from Universe of Two, Book One, That Darn Dragon
"Monsters under my bed, Artwork, Artist Unknown, Monsters under my bed, 19 March 2013, http://flina.deviantart.com/art/Monster-Under-My-Bed