I wrote this over a year ago, yet everytime I read it, a wave of rage will teeter me for a millisecond. I’ve become an expert at harnessing emotions, so I have to check myself often… but I can’t prevent the onset, the charge that zaps my heart on occasion. You see, even though I’m past my ‘past’… I’m still tethered to it. I still carry doubt by the bucket load. I empty the weight when it starts to spill and slosh around my tired heart, but it inevitably replinishes, and my chest becomes a keepsake of all that *was and never will be*.
And it’s a heavy burden to bear.
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