I had to stop by my storage unit today. I've been driving around with a trunk full of my old life. I guess I just haven't had the metal energy to go and deposit 5 years worth of love into a 12x12 concrete space. Until today. I was in there, sweating, digging through boxes, flushed with the memories of my past lives. Tripping over the physical representation of all the love, loss, anger, happiness, that has all piled up in my heart. And in my storage unit. A little living mausoleum. RIP Old Christina. See the thing we always forget about the past, is that as long as you're holding onto that shit (physically or mentally) you can't even begin to have room to add new things. New love. New stories. New books. New treasures. Even new hurts. My past and my future collided this week. Sparing the gory details, I was left at the end of it, literally alone. Just looking around. Wondering what the hell happened. I spent most of the week angry. Mad at my ex-boyfriend f...
You didn't think death would stop me from talking your ear off did you?