I guess I'm giving in...

I have layers over layers of a memory warped in place. There is the deepest layer, with the ones I love the most, or have shared this journey longest with. Years and years and years. Maybe, I think, these are all the memories I'll ever be able to make. If I remain stuck here, I'll slowly but surely dry out. And so here I am, trapped between layers of my life, like wallpaper on top of wallpaper for centuries, and I need to peel everything away, I need to be the bare boards, no memories, nothing left. But to get rid of some things, I would have to get rid of everything. So here I am. Living on. A house with ghosts.