Today I am that toy you no longer use or even have with you anymore. I was once important and your favorite, but now I am just a ghost. You are still fond of me, but there’s no way for you to find me anymore. You’re not even sure you want to, anyway. A part of yourself feels silly by the mere sight of me in your imagination. And yet, this is where your brain takes you – to when you had me, held me at night, and took me everywhere with your small hands and tight grip. Simpler times. What happened? Perhaps there is a glimpse of the day we parted ways. You were so sure it was you who put me in a box, feeling very mature. But for a brief second there’s this memory of you looking for me and crying your eyes out the whole day. There’s this doubt that maybe it was me who let go of your hand and moved on.

listening while writing: Aidan Hawken – The Argument