What good does it do to dwell on matters that are past? Matters that have gone bad on the shelves of memory, matters that are way past the use-by date. What good does it do to haul those rotting carcasses into the light of day simply to examine them?
And yet that was what we tried to do yesterday. We barely got into the depths of those dead and foul creatures, and I was already walking away from my own body, floating away in the hopes that the pain would not reach me. But it did. The pain caught up with me and did I look shattered? Because you asked me if I felt threatened, and I did. So you backed off. You said we could talk about it another time.
What good does it do to dwell on matters that are past?
Didn’t I tell you that if I wasn’t such a bad kid, all those things would never have happened to me? Here I am, taking responsibility for the person that I am. Here I am, acknowledging my mistakes even though I was the one who was robbed of happiness.
Perhaps if I hadn’t put myself in such a vulnerable position I would never have been robbed. Plenty of people have been mugged, raped, assaulted, killed – and yet they’ve survived. Some of these people have cleaned out their closets so that none of the dead rotting carcasses remain. Not even a trace,…. and they become so much better people.
What do you think that tells me about myself? That despite my good intentions, I have failed.
It’s so hard not to smell the stench and feel revolted by the process of decay. I’ve tried so hard, I’ve put a lot of energy into my running, into everything I do in an effort to forget. Yet you draw on my memory stick from time to time, measuring my past, reflecting on my stunted growth. To what purpose?
And yet that was what we tried to do yesterday. We barely got into the depths of those dead and foul creatures, and I was already walking away from my own body, floating away in the hopes that the pain would not reach me. But it did. The pain caught up with me and did I look shattered? Because you asked me if I felt threatened, and I did. So you backed off. You said we could talk about it another time.
What good does it do to dwell on matters that are past?
Didn’t I tell you that if I wasn’t such a bad kid, all those things would never have happened to me? Here I am, taking responsibility for the person that I am. Here I am, acknowledging my mistakes even though I was the one who was robbed of happiness.
Perhaps if I hadn’t put myself in such a vulnerable position I would never have been robbed. Plenty of people have been mugged, raped, assaulted, killed – and yet they’ve survived. Some of these people have cleaned out their closets so that none of the dead rotting carcasses remain. Not even a trace,…. and they become so much better people.
What do you think that tells me about myself? That despite my good intentions, I have failed.
It’s so hard not to smell the stench and feel revolted by the process of decay. I’ve tried so hard, I’ve put a lot of energy into my running, into everything I do in an effort to forget. Yet you draw on my memory stick from time to time, measuring my past, reflecting on my stunted growth. To what purpose?