Retourne
There's a box under her bed that she tries never to open up. It's locked with a key that she wants to hide from herself, but she never quite can. Inside this tiny box are all her what ifs, her might have beens, her should have dones, truths that never quite came out and lies that somehow became realities. When her life has taken a particular turn and she has the unfortunate opportunity to contribute yet again to the lifetime of regrets and missed opportunities, she reluctantly opens the box and everything slides into her memory all at once. The boy that confessed his love; a love that she shared but would never admit to for fear of the pain that would have accompanied it. The mother on whom she all-to-often unleashed her verbal diarrhea. The ideas she let others take credit for.
But somewhere in the still frames of memory, she would stop to remember the other might have beens. The boy she could have married straight out of high school. The college friends she might never have met. The love she might never have known.
She silently forces all the contemplation that has slowly soaked into the room around her into the tiny little box yet again. With a new confidence, she closes it, locks it with a tiny key and resolves never to let it come open again. She hides the key under a sea of happy memories, ones that will one day wear away to reveal it again. But for now it's invisible and she reopens the closet that she loves. Full of the what will be's, the what can happens, and the yet to be wished.
But somewhere in the still frames of memory, she would stop to remember the other might have beens. The boy she could have married straight out of high school. The college friends she might never have met. The love she might never have known.
She silently forces all the contemplation that has slowly soaked into the room around her into the tiny little box yet again. With a new confidence, she closes it, locks it with a tiny key and resolves never to let it come open again. She hides the key under a sea of happy memories, ones that will one day wear away to reveal it again. But for now it's invisible and she reopens the closet that she loves. Full of the what will be's, the what can happens, and the yet to be wished.