Reminising, Missing.

The reason I joined this site has deep roots in this topic.

I came looking for a place to share secrets, to vent about things that I have no one to vent to, to pour my grief out of my fingertips and finally, maybe in a small way, let some of it go.

Every single person who has come into and out of my life has affected me, some in minor and seemingly insignificant ways, others changed me entirely, shaping the path of my life profoundly.

For every person, I have a spot in my heart. Many of those spots are more like scars. Battle wounds. Revisiting them hurts. It brings up old regrets, old memories, old love. Love I can't get back.

However, under the scars, the hurt, the regret, I always keep a little piece of love. Love that once was shared, love that I had for them and they for me. I keep my most treasured memories with them.

Walking through the west side market, hand in hand, buying escargot that we never got to try. It was so crowded, so I had to be close to you. You protected me, held me tight. Later that night, your kisses, so sweet. I will never forget how your lips felt.

It's odd that he is the first to come to mind. We were never in love. Our time together was so short, so confusing, so utterly drenched in turmoil. And yet, he will forever hold that space.

Another memory. A different soul who graced my life. They flash in and out of my head like fireworks now, flickering like a slideshow set to fast forward. The slides blur together and I struggle to remember somethings, like a distant dream.

Every single person in those images, my memories, has changed my life. They have gifted me with the ability to forgive, the ability to understand the full value of trust, the ability to love, the ability to love myself. They have given me insight into myself that I never would have found without them.

That list includes my villains. The people who did nothing but hurt me. They, perhaps, had the most significant effect on my life, on who I am, on why I do the things I do. They taught me, more than anyone I have ever loved, what it means to understand another person. The years I spent searching for understanding of their actions have all boiled down to a single solitary realization.

Everyone has a reason, everyone has a story, everyone has a past.

I forgave my villains because of theirs and yet I struggle to forgive those closest to me.
OnceThereWasAGirl OnceThereWasAGirl
22-25, F
Sep 19, 2012