Ofttimes I think if I just moved on and forget about it all it would cease to affect me. And for the most part it did. But lately I have been feeling that it never really went away, not really. Perhaps somethings just grow their roots too deep, that when uprooted leave fragments behind, or else fissures that will never truly heal.

Sometimes it’s like I carry this shadow of melancholy deep inside my heart ever since. I always like to think that it was good that it happened, a necessary evil of sorts to make me learn and grow. That perhaps I would have made the same mistakes anyway, it just depended on who. And I guess I still hold to that. So I don’t regret any of it, but it is certainly regrettable that it all had to happen this way.


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