I save a lot of stuff. Junk mail, I toss. But emails, files, other papers, old clothes, that sort of stuff, I save.

Save for what? Will I ever look at them again? Save for when? I’ll probably never fit into those old, worn Dockers again.

What am I packing away for? Why would I retain these things?

To wit, I was looking through my email folder titled “Family.”

I’ve been spending a fair chunk of this afternoon deleting these emails, but also reading them.

Perhaps this is the wrong thing to do; I don’t know.

Emails from almost ten years ago that I read today… emails that illustrate how nothing has changed in that time… emails that actually were so bold in their declarations that they need hardly any translation to clear English!

Emails telling me to not seek out a therapist.
Emails discouraging me from exploring the facts of my childhood.
Emails shifting blame away from evil deeds.
Emails instructing me that the parent-child relationship was my responsibility to maintain as the child.
Emails containing the most vitriolic hostility when a polite request is made.
Emails discouraging me from seeking to support myself.
Emails writhing the tendrils of control ever deeper into my soul.

Self-serving, self-righteous, cowardly fucking pricks!

Evil fucking bastards!

AND THIS IS LOVE???

WHY AM I SAVING ANY OF THIS SHIT??!?!?

Well, that’s just it.

I have been deleting it.

I don’t need this “evidence” anymore.

I know what they are.

My “Simon the Boxer”