The human tendency to cling to things past their expiration date is a perverse form of suffering that is born from the fear of that which is perpetually unknown—we hold on because we think we need certainty and permanence and all manner of fairy tale endings in order to feel whole.
We hold on because we’re afraid of what happens if let go. Because we long for the way things “used to be” and conspire to regain that feeling. Because no one taught us that it was okay for things to end.
Alas, when we hold on well after the time to let go has come, we aren’t actually kept safe and secure. We don’t find ourselves dripping in bliss. Instead, we find that we have soiled the very quintessence of the beautiful thing that once was—forever altering our ability to experience gratitude for it before it expired.
Everything must die, my darling. There is no permanence. No certainty. There is only here. There is only now. There is only how we choose to receive and relinquish.
Letting go is not a defeat—it is a form of preservation; it allows us to remember with fondness over fury, more sweet than bitter, a sharp and glimmering dagger, encapsulated in the shrine of its sheath rather than plunged into the depths of our hearts.