Therapy

Yes, I did hear the sound recorded in that Martian crater. I recognized it. It's the sound you hear when all the doors have closed behind you and you find yourself outside. I mean really outside. Disconnected. People die out here. They freeze. They become skeletons, dust piles, scarecrows. They sing sad songs that no one hears. They erase themselves slowly.  

There's the question of who closed those doors on you of course. There was an original action which prompted a fear, and then there was an interpretation, then a conclusion, then a generalization, then a coherent storyline that became essential to your personal lore. Something you'd read aloud on the holidays in the future. An internal family tradition. 

And by reading the story aloud, through practice, you became the Closer of Doors. I'm writing about resentment now. I'm examining my role in the conspiracy. It wasn't your fault. You were framed. I wanted to play my saddest song for you. To write you into the latest verse. And that's just what I did..

I'm sorry. I love you. I forgive you. I release you.