Jeremy wasn't sure is it a good idea - to destroy the happiness in the…
The archive smelled like rotten eggs and dirt. The dust sparkles were rambling along the only piercing light coming through the crack of the ceiling. Flump… another stack of memories added to the archive. The dust sparkles scattered. The archive was dark and moldy full of messy folders, photo albums, letters, papers, books, files. They were there for the past forty years without anyone organize them, sift them, and clean them up. Every day, a stack of new memories would add up to the rest. Piling up without any reasons. No one let them go. They sometimes would mourn or whimper. If you know the archive language, you may be able to understand what they say but as I know, you may not even know that such language exists, here I am to translate for you.
“I wish to die. The cracks on my cover are killing me” The photo album said. The rest of the photo albums agreed, “Sometimes I feel, death forgot I exist otherwise I was dead 30 years ago.”
“Me too, I hold the photos of a woman who betrayed him and left him for another man. The purpose of keeping me is unknown”
“And me,” said the folder, “I am full of useless papers. None of them has a reason to keep. We are here just in case one day he needs us. But to be honest… these papers are worthless”
“I am a bunch of the movies he won’t ever watch,” said the CD holder.
“Oh what about me?” the letters stack said, “I am the letters written by him to his mother.” The letter stack chuckled, “I have never been sent. I have never been read. I’ve just kept full of hateful words. I’m covered in grudge and pain against a mother who tortured him, never cared for him and left him alone”
“And I am a box full of old laptop and phones. None works anymore. They are kept for their hard drives and whatever is in those hard drives”
“Oh, that’s cute,” said the stack of braided hair, “I am the collection of women’s hair whom he once was in love with. Forgotten but never forgiven”
“And I am a basket full of kitchenware. None of us were used for the past two decades”
The archive sighed, “I hold you all in my heart. In my mind. I keep you all safe. But it’s me bearing the pain of holding on to a past that is dead but it’s still alive in his head.”
“Why is he doing it to us? Let us go. Let us die”
Archive moaned, “What can I say. I suppose to be his secret keeper”
“We have the right to know. It’s the matter of the pain we’re handling”
“You are the hope he holds on to.”
“How can you have hope on a thing that is gone? On a thing that kills your heart?” said the books.
“We are pulling his shoulders down,” said the photo albums.
“And we’re ruining his present,” said the letters.
“We are the reason he forgets to see the worth of the woman he has today, blinding him to see the light of the sun brightening his life, blocking the dreams for the future yet to come,” said the stack of hair.
The archive remained in silence for a while. The dust sparkles started to wander. Then the archive sighed and said,
“He forgot to forgive himself and the past. He held onto you to give him an identity he never felt he had. The love he never felt he had. The good memories he never thought he had. The pain was fueling his hatred toward everything and anyone. And you are the energy for that pain to live.”
“But we want to die” all of them protested.
“I want you to die too as you are heavier day after day. And it hurts my back. But it’s him have the power to let you go. To let me feel light. To let himself to truly love. To feel peace”
A flump. A stack of hateful garbage that smelled like rotten eggs weight down the archive. All of them went silent.
“Hello. We are the bag full of stinky comparisons and judgments he made between the woman in his life and the rest of the women he once loved. We are a stack of stinky grudge, hatred, and disgust about her. We are here to be used once they have an argument again to feel more pain and hate the woman he loves. Who are you all?”
The archive groaned, “We are all the same stack of stinky past memories that never die”
Image Source: http://www.bfi.org.uk/archive-collections/about-bfi-national-archive
I am a proud educator, writer, and a non-stop learner. I am in love with innovation and improvement and I go against the stream to reach the highest potential possible and no one can stop me.
Specialties: research, human behavior studies, training, education, public relations, creative writing, event planning, marketing