To be or not to be

Memories are peculiar, so is the mind; one entity the two combine a sacred trust to not unfold. A flaw, fatal to our existence as individuals, enwraps our past with our future. Two that are not to be one, but to be a cause and effect chain of resemblance. all are affiliated with this flaw.

 

Innocent I was; Innocent I am not. Children expected to know maturity when they are not mature. Society has lost a sense of dignity,morality. I am not alone. Strong, we stand, although some are still weak. As victims we speak. Guilty are the defilers. Guilty are the ones who turn their cheeks.

 

Fragile glass we once called trust, shattered. Statistically, hushed crimes are perpetrated by the ones we love,  leaving mental disasters for us to sweep and the perp to leave. I am one of the anonymous group, called We.

 

We, analyze the inflicted damage on our own. Alone, but not alone, yet alone. A confusing explanation to few but normal to We.

 

Rumors, lies, circulated the room. I am the reason. I hurt them. I set it loose. Well they are wrong.

In my case, It was not, directly in my mind at least, their fault nor mine. My judgement of resentment, already determined, with someone else. Someone placed on earth, who portrays protection, failed to do their job.

 

Subconsciously chain reactions began, spreading itself, stretching itself into years. Masks we have worn, others still wear, deceiving the truth of the wars raging in our heart. Master of the art of fooling, I became a fool. Webs spindled, protection, security; all to display a sense of well being. As a business would do on opening day, cut the string, opening the world to dismay.

 

Crashing hard hitting reality. Sorting through debris is undesirable. Life is not pure, or simple, but it is not all evil.

 

I’m told time heals.

Broken I was. Broken I am not, yet I am not healed. At least not healed to who I was. New Meaning: healed: to become a new form of a person after recovering from a wound.I am finished waking every day plastering a smile upon my face and marching to the beat of yesterday. I am trying to find my way. But one thing is true and each day I heal to these words:

not who I was, not what I had become, rather a product of my past. However, my past does not define me. For who I am is ever changing with each passing moment.

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