A shrine or a graveyard?

„I‘m a witch, so I have options“, I say while eating the cake that I have mad just for myself. „I can either build up a shrine for my old life and things which I once believed in, or else I burn everything and accept that this part of me has died.“
„Those are the only options?“, Layla asks and I have to admit that I let her have a piece of cake as well.
„Yes.“

Either a shrine, or a graveyard. What shall it be?

I cannot yet decide.

Sometimes, I dare to remember the time before my soul was heavily drowning and leaking out, and I am really happy for a moment. A song can lure be back into feeling like being 20 years old, eating cotton candy and having a beer with friends near a train station at night, while the city lights are twinkling.
But then, I remember how far away this is and how nothing of this is still a part of my life anymore, and I want to throw away books, CDs, clothes and photos, because the world is over.

Right now, I am crying over a beautiful dress I got for my birthday, because I will never wear it anywhere else than in this room. Yes, that is me now.

I don‘t get why I should be okay with nothing but a bowl of rice and a wall to stare at“, I say to my witch.
„I did not, either“, she answers. „That is why I let my weird visitors in who wanted to buy some magic. Oh, and because otherwise I would have starved.“

This point goes to her. Being almost burned, and then widowed without even really having been married really sucks.