A life without a past, a history or reputation. A lack of patience for explaining the particulars of choices made. A barrier between who they were and who they strive to be. Is freedom the white washing of memories made and mistakes replayed? A complete severance from what was and hopes to what is?
Apologies wasted on paper, good intentions left lacking and a cry for time to heal. Its all so aggregated through fear and locked tight with folded arms. Why is anyone surprised when those dearest to us is hurt, for they are by default closest in proximity to our mistakes....
all I know is that saying when is the hardest part.
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