Packing up the past.


Time… is one thing I can’t stop. It keeps moving, seemingly increasing in speed. One day I will have run out of it, but for now I try and move with it.

My past is always with me. I carry inside me the echoes of moments and words, missed opportunities and what I struggled to learn from them. With each day that passes more memories and their imprints are added. The combined weight can be crushing. The chains of error’s pattern hobble me and risk halting me completely.

One thing I always forget is that I am meant to be my own champion. I am all I truly have to rely on. I should be my best friend because I am the only person who will always be there for me. I care for others… but that doesn’t mean that it works both ways, and why should it? They didn’t ask me to care for them and it’s unfair of me to hope for… anything.

I can’t change anything about anyone except myself. I pack up my past. What I must do is be kind to myself though and realise that some things are broken and will never be repaired. I can try and be kind to myself and leave behind my mistakes and pain. Some things are luggage to travel with me, some are simply to be cut free and left. As painful as it is now, as alone as I feel, hope whispers to me that one day I will once again stand whole and worthy in my own eyes.

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