Fix you

I miss writing. I miss writing regularly, feeling how amazingly therapeutic it can be.

I was in the company of a very dear friend some days ago. We were talking about the future fraught with uncertainties, and inevitably, started to travel back in time, and talked about our pasts.

I guess it never leaves us behind, our past.

As much anger I have for myself, I am equally angry at the beast who stole it all away from me, and the trauma I was left with. Sometimes, I am so angry, I wish I could meet him a second time just to give him a cold tight slap against his wretched face. I wish I could slam the keyboard furiously and delete him from my life, my past. Time provides such clarity. I was terribly foolish, lost in the game of words, vulnerable to a situation I was not satisfied in. Fair enough, I wasn't already the happiest by that time, but none of that could possibly have made it better.

I see now the lack of remorse. Like my dear friend agreed - the epitome of what makes an asshole.

I was happy in my little bubble. And now, I'm just a mess, trying to fix myself, in order to fix the people I love around me. In order to not hurt the people I have hurt before. I need to fix me.