You know, things will happen to you when you’re young… things that shape who you are and your relationships. You might not know this at the time or years later. It’s only when depression takes you to the deepest darkest corners to survive its toll that you find these. Then you see it, laid out in front of you… all the decisions you have made based on this one event, that you didn’t even think was that impactful. The crack you never noticed till now. Is it like a broken bone? If I didn’t fix it at the time, will it burden me for the rest of my life?
They’re all adding up now and I wonder what I would have been like without them. Who is that pure person? Or, who were they?
Funning isn’t it that everyone I’ve ever told… not in detail, but they’re gone. I made them go. Knowing my experiences is knowing me, knowing that I’m fragile and broken. That’s not who I want to be. Know my secrets and you won’t know me for long.
A few days alone with nothing else to occupy my head and they win. These memories and thoughts live off of emptiness. Behind they leave a fucked up, unfixable mess. Tomorrow they will be gone again, but tonight they rule. At every chance they get stronger and stronger. I’ve begun to protect others from the power they hold. I’ve watched them try to destroy those I care about, because I’m already gone.