“If things would have gone the way I would have wanted them to have gone I wouldn’t be the person I am today.”
People are fantastic at forgetting.
Forgetting is not healing.
Forgetting is not being okay.
Forgetting is forgetting.
Those things we have chosen or not chosen to forget will come rearing their not truly forgotten heads. When they do, it’ll be vicious, it’ll suck.
The art of story is the gift of choosing to remember. Choosing to actively remember. Choosing to take ownership. Choosing to acknowledge. Choosing not to forget, but rather to remember the things that made us who we are. To thank what came and went. I repeat:
“If they would have been the person I would have wanted them to be, I wouldn’t have been the person I am today.”
We must make the choice to own our scars, so our wounds don’t remain open sores. Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter.
There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. We must write. We must own what has come before us and allows us to stand here today.
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