Lost luggage
“Ma’am,” I hear, but it’s in my head, “your lost luggage is here.”
No. I lost it on purpose. I don’t want it.
My brain knows I don’t want it, but it doesn’t care. It thinks I need it.
I try to sneak away quietly. I look back, it’s still there, following me. Maybe if I walk fast. Looking back, still there. Can I run? Nope. Still there.
My brain tells me again, it’s my luggage and not anyone else’s.
But, I DON’T WANT IT.
Too bad. It’s yours. We checked. Opening the bag, every emotion on the Tone Scale is locked up. And the voices coming from the bag are my own.
Dammit, I was sure that when I left Scientology that I deliberately left that baggage behind.
My new life without Scientology is great. And I don’t need or want that effin’ bag!
I look back again. The damn thing STILL follows me.
I try to set it on fire. Oh, it burns. And its so refreshing to watch. Sigh. Bag is gone. Time to keep walking, move forward with my life!
“Excuse me ma’am, but this is your baggage.”
No ! No ! No !
I lost it, I burned it. I locked it up tight.
But that baggage shows up anytime, anywhere, and without warning.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning, get in a good stretch and a smile. Today we will have a GOOD day!
I look over and that effin’ bag is sitting there, looking at me, and saying “we’ll see about that. We’ll see.”
It snickers. And I groan.
Go away baggage, go away!
Snicker. Snicker.