I am not proud of everything I did, nor am I wishing I did things different. It's a tricky road to go down to, my memories. People say memories are altered by your mind every time you try to bring them to the surface. If this is true then absolutely nothing I think I know to be true, is actually real. How many times can you go back before it changes yourself? How many times can you return before the thoughts are lost? Most of all, how many times can you relive your past before it's doomed never to change again?
"Life is tough yet oh so clear
Death is only the life of fear"
I'd like to believe I can learn from the past, and I'd like to believe I did. Somehow though, I fear that the same things I treasure from myself, come back and haunt me until proven that it will never change. Some things, not all. It's for all the other things that I allow those small hints of repeating past events and thoughts, wouldn't know what to do without them. Does it mean you're losing yourself when you change, or does it mean you honour yourself by changing? Reinvent yourself, or destruct? Is it still you if you finally changed all that was you in the past?
Every beginning feeds of the ending of another. Every ending sees what is coming yet tries to protect itself. Change is a peculiar thing, it reminds you of what was, what is now and what could become. Life itself is the most peculiar thing of all, giving you endless choices, consequences and above all the memory of the past. I wonder sometimes, and get lost in my thoughts. I believe I like getting lost, it means I haven't forgotten but the once logic mess is now only a mess. A sweet mess.