Lost

Looking across the room at boxes. Boxes and Boxes that have been moved and moved. Cant bring myself to open them. Cant bring myself to sit there and go thru them. Boxes filled with hopes and dreams, memories, hurt and anger. Boxes filled with lies and gained truths. Boxes filled with me. My past. Every peice in them is important. Is held dear. To go thru them means to walk down that path and either say goodbye or to see truths over again. A need to go thru it. To see myself again. Cardbord and tape keep hidden and protect me. My shell, my wall, my space. Move after move those boxes havent been touched. Years pass and I cant dare to bring myself to go thru them. Deep breath. Into my past I go.