Strong-Grip Girl

It's been pointed out to me that I have to let go of things, specifically the love of my life, who I love and hate simultaneously, and who is simply a memory now. Perhaps I am a little too caught up in the past. Always been a flaw of mine. I find it hard to let go of anything, be it love, a grudge or a cherished object. My mother has threatened to burn my beloved backpack, on account of a grad school student should no longer be lugging around a bulky green Jansport, but I resolutely refused. I still have the teddy bear that was my constant companion at age six. My first love was a guy in the fifth grade and though it's hard for me to admit this, if he came to me today and said, "Come with me to <insert name of far-off country> tonight", it'd take me more than a few minutes to think of all the reasons I have to say no. Yes, I am certifiably insane. Is it a blessing to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? I seriously don't know. All I know is, if this is what love feels like, I'd rather have chocolate. Or a bloodletting. Am I afraid I'll never feel like this again? No, I'm afraid I will feel like this again, and that just kills me. Falling in love with this particular person made me feel stupid, and imbecilic and...I don't know, like I was some kind of illogical shrew. Is that what love is supposed to do to you? Coz if it's like that, count me out. I'm much better off by myself. That being said, I do contend that perhaps I've been overly bitter and God, I hate being bitter. I can't help it; I have strong grip. I hold on tightly to the things I love and I love him, and love makes you even stronger. Yet another side effect of this silly "love" thing that's possessed me. I quote myself - "Love is a four-letter word."  You're screwed when you fall in love. The next guy I love, if I ever love, better sweep me off my feet or it's no go. But for now, there are more important things than that particular four-letter word on my mind - the main one? E-X-A-M!

Final thought: I hate myself because of you, yet why do I still love you?