love you when you are gone.

Over it.

Was she a french revolutionary who introduced the concept of liberalism? No. Not really. 

Did she feel liberated nonetheless? HELL YEAH.

You ever know that feeling when you are spiralling down into the open mouth of an active volcano and the pits of your stomach are caving into a blackhole? And just when you're anticipating to turn into a fossil fuel, the bubbling lava just cushions your fall and lets you settle between its hot flames instead? And then you start to think that maybe getting dumped into a volcano isn't that bad... Maybe volcanoes are just misunderstood, maybe they just want to help you boil water in a teapot. On a large scale. 

Or maybe, you are just used to the feeling of getting burnt until your body numbs the pain, turns you insensitive to the obvious scars that are starting to fade. And you just accept the pain, welcoming it with a sad, knowing smile.

Nevermind, the teapot theory sounds better.  

She wanted to hide the scars, bury them beneath the stone walls she had built. She wanted to wash those thoughts away, but dried paint made wet was impossible to scrape off without leaving tainted walls behind.

 These memories long forgotten, hidden and compressed into a ball of darkness.

But that's not what she wanted.

She wanted this ball thrown far away, farther than her hands could reach, farther than she could see, farther than her temptation to pry the ball back. For that, it needed to be thrown out of the bounds.

The ball now lay close to the wall. The very wall that seperated the misery of her heart, from the solace found within. It was her decision to kick the ball out, or let it rot her walls. All she had to do was find the courage to push these memories away, to make space for better ones.

But how could she do so when her wound was still fresh, resurfaced from underneath the torn scab? .......Time.

She waited patiently, letting time to work with her, not against. It was pointless to pick on the scab and relive the painful bruise. It was time to let it heal. 

She had to accept the damage done, and hope to look back at the ball of memories with love, and not longing. With rememberance, not pain.

Letting it go, not to forget, but to forgive.

Time heals. Heal it does, slowly, but surely. She barely remembered any of the heated emotions she had felt that day. She felt at peace. No silly thoughts reverberating through her mind like ripples of water returning back to where it originated from. Her head wasn't muddled anymore, she wasn't forced to  ponder upon something that made her head ache. It was easy to focus, and at the same time, easy to drift away in thoughts without dwelling in the fear of returning back to the painful ones.

There used to be moments where she was afraid to let her mind wander. She was afraid of her own thoughts consuming the last bit of her sanity and turning her into a madwoman.  But she knew, time would heal. Time always heals. It simply depends on how deep the wound was. In her case, she belittled her feelings, ofcourse. It was a mere highschool infatuation which had gotten into her head and she would soon be out of it, no doubt. She trusted in herself. That's all the reassurance she needed.

And that's how she finally moved on, moved away, far away from the shroud of gloom and from the eye of doom.

She was freed from the shackles of her first heartbreak.

So she looked at her walls, and back at the ball. She smiled at the memories he gave her, and closed her eyes. But this time, there was no lumps of regret lodged in her throat.
She took a deep breath in, but this time, there was nothing crushing her lungs.
She exhaled outward, but this time, no ragged breaths were released. 
The expression on her face held peace, and not resentment.

She tossed the ball into the volcano. The same volcano that she had once drowned in, but this time, her scars were not a symbol of her weak resolve. They were a symbol of her acceptance.

Her smile grew into a grin, and that's when she realised. It was time for her;

Not to bury, but to erase.