third lucky strike

I collect things; in hope that the memory which came along with it stays with me. My first movie ticket with him, whatever pictures I took, a letter from my young, pure six year old student--I kept it all. I hold everything so dearly in my heart, put it in a box, seal it up, keep it safe. But when the time comes, oh but when the time comes--when I need to clean my box of memory, I'll throw the treasure I used to keep. If the things I keep brings me pain, I'd gather my guts and throw them away. My first movie ticket with him was the first to go. It was hard at first but as time goes by, the pain depreciate and throwing things which does not make me happy anymore gets easier. Giving respect to myself is the least I can do to. So don't be surprised when I throw you out as well. Suppressing everything you did to me before does not mean I'm okay with everything. I'm not that naïve. Just like the precious belongings I've kept in my pretty memory box, I too would have no problem in throwing you away. If you think I have pulled myself away, bear in mind that you have hit my third lucky strike. Don't even bother trying to impress me anymore. Oh and honey, please don't resemble my forgiving with forgetting. No, don't be mistaken. I'm not holding any grudge. I'm just protecting myself and I'm sorry but I'm not a very good pretender. Pretending that everything is alright when it is not is not something that I am good at.