This is the Last of It

I think I've finally gotten the last shred of broken glass and broken cds removed from the fibers of the carpet. It's all over now. Everything has been packed away and it's time to hold a giant magnet to my head to wipe my memory clean. Battle scars...they're a beautiful thing.

And as I lie in bed at night, those three words that kept the plane from crashing haunt me...and I wish that it had crashed so that I wouldn't have to feel a moment of pain such as this, when I clench my eyes shut tightly and repeat three more little words of my own, willing myself to make it all go away or at least less apparent in the photographic imagery of my mind.

...I can't wait to leave this place and start anew...