I cannot even stand to see pictures of it.
I criticize it.
I hate the shape.
I hate the way it looked on me.
I hate the color.
I hate the way it moved.
I hate it.
I want to get rid of it.
I do not want to see it in my house.
I want to sell it.
Or maybe give it away.
But I do not want it here.
I do not want to see it hanging in the "crap-I-cannot-get-rid-of-yet" closet.
But maybe it is not the dress' fault.
Maybe it is not the shape.
Or the color.
Or the way it moved.
Maybe just maybe it is what it represents.
Maybe just maybe it is what I lost.
Maybe just maybe it is a reminder of 2008, the best day of my life.
The worst year of my life.
I am not sure.
And in all honesty, I am afraid to get rid of it.
What if I do want it a year from now?
What if I get rid of it then regret it?
I know I will never put it on again.
The thought of that makes me cringe and my skin crawl.
I do not even look inside the bag.
I think just accidently touching it would bother me.
Thinking about it actually makes me feel nauseous.
Yeah, it is probably not the dress itself.
Talking with my twin, she came up with an idea.
I will give it to my mother-in-law to keep.
That way it is out of my house.
It will be four hours away.
It cannot haunt me.
At least as much.
And if in a year or a five years, I really want to part with it, I can.
Because right now, I do not think "we" can both live in the same house.