A mid-summer spell

Today I burned the two letters I wrote about earlier this month. I went out into the garden and tried to light them on fire. I didn't know if I was supposed to have a ceremony or ritual for burning the letters, so I just decided to burn them in a peaceful setting.

It was supposed to be much easier than it actually was. I was fine mentally and emotionally, but every time I tried to light them, the wind came and blew them out. This happened to the point where it got spooky. The paper would burn right up to the words and then die. A thought crossed my mind that the letters were more than just paper, and that some outside force was keeping them from burning and I got really frustrated. I tried protecting the flame, holding the letter at different angles, and rotating my body with the wind to try to get the damn thing to catch- nothing was working. It was getting ridiculous and I gave in and tried saying something: "I don't love you," or "I release you."

After accusing him of writing on some miracle fire-proof paper, it finally caught. Burning two sheets of paper took over a half hour and I now smell like smoke. Even the ashes wouldn't break apart. I could pick up the remains and it would still be in one piece, handwriting still legible. It felt like cloth now instead of paper. "What is going on?" I screamed and threw the ash-paper down and jumped up and down on it, stomping it until it became a pile of ashes. Then I kicked the ashes until they had scattered. That was probably the most therapeutic part of the entire process.

I was hoping for some big revelation, but there was none. Although I don't regret it- I really believe it had to be destroyed- I don't feel any different now that it's done.