How much could a simple coffee mug mean?
It might mean the world to a person when gifted by a much-loved one. Then to pick up the courage to smash it on to the wall, watch the smithereens all around you, see it with your own eyes what the hands have done, and comprehend with the head that it is over, only because you wanted to equate the token with the wound the inflicter got to your heart. It is complicated, yet so simple.
Throw, break, burn, delete, forget.
Is there really a joy destruction brings? Synthetic fur burning, porcelains breaking, plastics crumbling, coloured papers turning pitch-dark, and most recently Ctrl+A Delete.
Do not get me wrong. This is not a person turning a pyromaniac or an anarchist or a barbarian. It is simple acceptance. Embracing the truth that a relationship is over, acceptance that it is time to move on, teaching self that the heart needs no more torture from a particular person.
Not everyone is there to stay with you all your days.
Hence burning memories become part and parcel of life.
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