Things That Bang

I'm the kind who likes to burn bridges or rather tug the thread till the entire sweater unravels and lies in a muddle of mess and in manic anger I think - 'there! I have decimated you! You don't exist' and in that anger my love for that person dies- there is no pain just the need to have nuked the bridge, to have burned that sweater, to have just let it all go in the blink of an eyelid and believe that nothing tangible ever existed- neither did the bridge, nor the love nor the pain.

Small Squirrel wrote a beautiful piece of fiction on DC about the unraveling but with a different take and its a must read. Here is an excerpt from Loose Ends

Its the coming apart that is frightening. You see the first thread start to pull and you think it should hold. You notice the tension on the fabric, but you think to yourself "naaaaah, should be fine... it's strong enough." Maybe you even snip a couple loose ends. That ought to do the trick nicely.

Or you've seen the loose thread and you absentmindedly worry it like a loose tooth. that kind of pain that is almost pleasant. Comforting? Wrong word.

The lady knows how to get it just where it still hurts and breathes:)