Digging into my mind..

Lately, I had to dig deep into my memory, into my brain, into my soul to find and to touch the leftovers. Time passes by and we stay with so many leftovers. Some are black and some are white. Some are pink and some are brown. Some are rotten and some just lay there waiting for a touch, a hand to reach out and do something. Something good or something bad, it doesn't matter as long as it is something.

So many leftovers. Most of it is sleeping. Some of it is waiting, some of it is crying or screaming, but the voice do not reach our ears. Or better say, our ears adjusted to different levels of waves... We don't want to hear, we don't want to listen, we want to....Forget and sleep.

I do not want to look into it. I know what I will see and I refuse to see it. I refuse to touch the places that hurt, why should I? we live once, then why dig into the shit of life? If we live only once then why not forgive, forget and live? It was hard, but relieving, beautiful, and then ugly, I couldn't look into it. But I had to.

Few weeks ago, although I didn't want to, someone made me look into it, made me push my hands into the mud and the pus, into the wounds and the blood, and grab my agony in my hands and look at it. Stare at it, as if it was a mirror. The mirror of my life, the mirror that directed me in life.