Letting Go

Sometimes I think I don't have the words - just the feelings - and those are both wordless, and worth a billion words all at the same time. It feels like a Catch 22 situation, and my ammunition is at an all time low.
I wept for you today - I always weep for us, but today it was for you.
I remember when I had to turn my weakness into anger - I remember when my things were all MY things - I remember how I needed those things with a need greater than any normal feeling. Because I wasn't allowed anything else.  You don't allow yourself anything else. Perfection - while not at all in your mind (or so you claim) and yet you demand it of you and everyone around you. Who died and made you God?
What possession can you take to the grave with you?  What food will still satisfy your hunger after you are dead?
It's ironic to me that we must give up ownership in order to possess.