Unfinished business.

A long time has passed.

I cleaned out my closet for the one last time today. Trashed it all. Old

workshop journals, unfinished paintings and pain medications. Trashed it all.

Two and a half foot long pile of garbage accumalated over the last three

years. Old tshirts, old notebooks, old blue jeans and a coconut. Trash.

Then I lay it all on the floor and spread it and sifted through it all looking

for those fragile trinkets with memories attached to them. Designed to fade over time.

Like the old blue jeans.

My closet door is filled with chemistry II formulae I wrote on it in my first year.

I don't even remember when I etched out the lyrics to Breathe on the table with a

compass. Probably during the times I used to carry a compass. A long time has passed.

I found an old notebook in which I had written about the guitar I wanted to own one day.

The make and the pickups and what her name would be. Everything. I looked around at Moonbeam. Exactly as I wrote she would be. Complete with the name.

On the very next page I'd written about the first exact moment when I knew for sure

that I had fallen for someone. More than I had ever.

Well, atleast I got my guitar.

I have unfinished business with this place. I will leave things undone. Unsaid.

I'll sleep on the cold comforting floor tonight. I'll leave a guitar string behind.

I'll trust the memories. They're designed to fade over time.