Symbolic Suitcase

I’m packing up my memories in that big pink suitcase. I intend to leave them there.

Am I moving? Changing locations? No, but I am changing. It’s the hardest thing in the world but one never knows what’s waiting beyond the heartbreak, never knows what will make their heart full again.

When I step outside now I do not feel sad. Instead, I see all the opportunities I was blind to before. The world is both brighter and darker, divided simply by my perceptions.

My suitcase: it takes me back to the first month we met. I was leaving for Christmas break and you came to my apartment to spend my last hours with me. In that moment, though we would be apart for weeks, I felt alive. My heart pounded at how close you sat to me. My heart expanded when you carried my suitcase for me, when you lifted it into the taxi. You kissed me goodbye and I think I already knew I loved you.

My suitcase: it takes me back to leaving again at the end of summer. I could’ve asked my friends for help, but you were at my apartment already with news that would shatter me. Through all the disappointment you provided, and all the confusion, I still held on. But this time, you broke my heart. You lifted me up impossibly high and falling from that safety hurt. Standing in the elevator where we kissed hurt. Sitting in my car without you next to me hurt. Pushing my glasses up my nose without you to call me your “cute nerd” hurt.

You sent me off that day. Little did I know it would be forever.

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