Sitting cross-legged on the bed, a faded navy blue sweatshirt is sprawled out on my lap.  My hands slowly move over the worn places and tattered sleeve as the memory comes flooding in.

It was the darkest, most painful time in my life and this sweatshirt belongs to the person who contributed to that.  There is manipulation, abuse, and evil entwined in this fabric.  A sweatshirt: such an innocent garment whose purpose is to wrap around the body and keep it warm and comfortable.  Ironic, isn’t it?  To me, it represents just the opposite, yet perversely I find some comfort in the discomfort.

Besides the intangibles that I carry inside me, this is the only thing I kept from that relationship.



2 thoughts on “Sweatshirt

  1. Perhaps it is to remind you that you will never let someone hurt you like that again. When you no longer need the reminder you will be able to let even the sweatshirt go. 🙂

  2. You’re holding on to the sweatshirt because even though that person hurt you, you still loved him. You’re holding onto the love you had for him. Sometimes we love what we should hate. Better the sweatshirt, than the hurt he caused you.

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