What if healing looked like a crime scene? · Vindec EU

What if healing looked like a crime scene?

We were told to "let it go" like a balloon into a summer sky. Soft. Gentle. Quiet.

But some ghosts don't leave when you ask them nicely.

Some memories are built of reinforced steel and high-octane fuel.

They don't float away.

They have to be dismantled.

I woke up in a room with no mirrors, carrying a key to a car that only drove in circles.

The green paint was a lie, a coat of "fine" over a frame of "broken."

So I drove it to the edge of the world.

I didn't leave it there.

I gave it to the fire.

The crackle isn't noise, it’s a confession.

The shattering glass is the sound of a cage opening.

They call it destruction.

I call it the first time I’ve been able to breathe without the smell of old exhaust.

We were young.

We were free.

But freedom has a price, and sometimes that price is everything you thought defined you.

I had to burn the map to finally find my way home.

Based on Dermot Kennedy's - Young & Free

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