In The Attic

by, Cassandra


In the dark corner of attic, pushed all the way to the back, lies what I'm looking for. It's the embodiment of me, stuffed into a cardboard box. It's buried under stuff I've collected through the years. Dust covers everything in sight, proof that this stuff hasn't been touched in a long time.

Getting through the room is hard. It's a maze of boxes and mementos, from people and years gone by. I'm going to trip over stuff trying to get through, meaning I'll have to face my past. The past that I was more than happy to throw into the attic and shut the door on.

Another problem is the cobwebs that hang from the ceiling. Walking through there I'm going to get smacked in the face with them. I'd try to use a broom to knock them down, but that usually makes it worse. Because then they are stuck to it and when you try to use the broom at a later date, you'll get them all over.

But I need that box, so I have to get through the room.


In a dark corner of my mind, pushed all the way to the back, lies what I'm looking for. It's the embodiment of me, stuffed into the back of my mind. It's buried under hurts I've collected over the years. Dust covers everything, proof that this stuff hasn't been touched in a long time.

Getting through my mind is hard. It's a maze of fears and memories, from people and years gone by. I'm going to trip over stuff trying to get through, meaning I'll have to face my past. The past that I was more than happy to shove to the back of my mind and forget.

Another problem is the lies clouding my mind. Going through there I'm going to get smacked in the face with them. I'd try to ignore them, but that usually makes it worse. Because then they come out at a later date and make a mess.

But I need the real me, so I have to get through my mind.