I’ve spent a great portion of today trying to write. I’ve actually written quite a bit, but I’ve also deleted it all. Maybe I shouldn’t do that. Maybe I should keep the writing and go back to it. But the thing is, I’m trying to write about my past, unrelated to my Lovie, and it sucks.
I lived my life in the past for such a long time and I’ve come to terms with it all. I have no fucking desire to dredge it all back up again. Why should I? Because it may make for an interesting read? Because it may make someone connect with me? Fuck that. Fuck that!
Thing is, all this has made me realize something I’ve realized before–I haven’t lived my life to the fullest. It took me close to 30 years before I finally started Living life for me instead of everyone else. So those near-30 years? YAWN. Much like a bag of unsalted, unbuttered popcorn. WHO CARES?
The early stuff, the memories that pain me most, the memories that might make for the best stories? I’ve lived through it. I’ve worked through it. I’ve come to accept and appreciate it all because without those moments, those days, months and years… I wouldn’t be who I am today. I wouldn’t be where I am today.
Life would be very different without my past and I don’t want it different. I just want to live. Today. Not yesterday. TODAY.