This was far more poetic on the whole than something about a life of loss ever deserved to be. I didn't expect to be so emotionally moved by this.
You must never stop writing. This is compelling storytelling, and you've done something rare with prose - make the reader feel closer to you, and leave it raw and accessible.
I both love and hate this piece of writing, because it makes me reflect on the thing that I too, have left behind at some point, and it asks me if I ever cared about those things, or those people.
Some things we leave behind because they have hurt us, or can't be useful to us anymore, but I have (and this sounds really strange to say) - never really forgotten anything, only tried to abandon it.
No matter how many objects I part with, the memory of the thing, and my use of that thing, or the uselessness / usefulness of that thing is unchanged. I have been chaos unto the things and other people's lives, in some ways, and I can't ever forget that, but I can suspend it in memory.
I don't know if those memories are useful, but they're things that I will continue to collect.
This was meant to be a short comment complimenting your writing, but you dragged something deeper than what I thought could come about from some writing about letting things go.
Defiant, I will hold onto them - but the memories, instead of the things.
Thanks so much. It all started with synonyms for 'left' and "discarded' and each new word gave me thought. It's a great exercise - feel free to write your own. I appreciate your comment so much.
Memories are often better than the possession, even if they sting a little. All we can do is practice letting go until the final release.