Let go, just so

I want to soothe my pain, ease this strain, and fix the stress I create for myself.
I do this to myself, even though I am in control of what I can become and who I choose to be with.
I begin to write in despair, hoping to feel something less negative, when my ring slips and falls upon the pages where I once wrote love letters and letters of apology.

I glance at my ring. It shines, reminding me of my greatest love. The universe.
Throughout the day, thoughts of other realities and other versions of me flash before my eyes, thoughts I yearn to make true.

I let the ring fall onto the desk beneath where I lean, realizing I shouldn’t hold onto something that keeps me from expressing my true self - my thoughts, my statements, my soul-driven messages.

Why keep something that holds me back from becoming who I want to be?
Even if it’s one of my favorite things in the world, even if it means so much to me, it isn’t worth it.

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Wrote this late at night, so it's not too poetic or emotional ;) Reading Emma by Jane Austen right now, so far it seems quite lovely!