I’ve been there.
I bought a gun.
The relative who sold it to me thinks it is for “protection” …
and it is…
it’s to protect me from living a life that I no longer want to be a part of.
I. Said. It.
I’ve never admitted that.
I keep it locked up.
My family does not know I have it.
I fear it, how my anger could use it against me…
…and I think of it… like a secret lover…
~ The heft. The power. The finality.
It comforts me.
I feel when the world gets too hard~
when I become too frail~
when I have to be too dependent~
I can seek my refuge.
I have a long hidden and intimate friend…a solution.
But I don’t open that Pandora’s Box. I don’t look at it.
But I see it…In the box…everyday. I know it’s there. It helps me knowing.