I am too sentimental for my own good. Holding onto things that hurt. Numbers that sting, reminding me of my mistakes. Unfinished gifts waiting to be picked back up. Pictures on my wall of what i desperately wanted to keep but allowed myself to break. When i catch a breath from work, the memories replay in my head, making me nauseous. But i let them. My heart just won't let me erase. I'd rather keep your image, even if i can't think of you without regret washing over me. In that way, my guilt can be sweet, just like the things i grieve.











