The Exit.

She asked me to throw it away. I was a bit hesitant, she noticed that. She said that it is the first step to improvement. I stalled. "Do I have to?", I asked. She said we need to focus on priorities. "I can't, not now at least, give me some time, perhaps?". She insisted.
She asked "How did you get it, anyway?"
I replied, half honestly, half hiding "Well, it all happened when I was in prep year or 1st year of college, I don't remember why. Since then,  I kept hiding the messed part with some toys hung upwards, then, a couple of months ago perhaps, I took a little broken piece out of it, and kept it near."
"It's your exit. Right?"
"Yes."
"You need to have another open door, instead of an exit."
"I know, but how?"
"We are gonna work on it, by trying to not to think of that exit, by throwing that little piece away."

I could not throw it away, not yet, how could I?
It's funny how I think of it, how I feel "connected" or a bit of "care" for that little piece. She put it in a very brief and short description, yet precise, an exit. It is the key when all other keys fail. It is the exit door to another world perhaps a little bit more calm than ours. I hope so at least. It is the end of a suffering that repeats everyday and never ends.

I mean, after all, we all look for an exit in everything we do, don't we?
We keep a plan B all along, even C, D, E...etc. Until the alphabet finishes, right?
Perhaps, one day it will have its own exit out of my life. Maybe, I could find an exit from my exit.