I compartmentalise. I put everything aside in different boxes. But then when I take all the pieces out from all the different places, I realise they're all scattered and out of order and I can't for the life of me put them back together. I'm so young and yet there are huge portions of my life that I can't piece together. I don't remember what happened, just that it was dark and claustrophobic and I was scared and angry. But I can't organise it all to find out why. I don't know what happened.
It's a secret I kept, and what scares me the most is that I kept it from myself. I didn't know I had a secret left to keep, and yet there it was right in front of me. The unguarded truth. I'm nineteen years old and I do not know what happened throughout several years of my life.
I don't know whether to mark this up to how complicated I tend to make things, or whether I should truly be concerned for my health. So many people and places and faces and people ask me how I keep up and the simple fact is that I don't. I didn't. I never did. And then when I tried to retrace the past, so I could make sense of this feeling of impending panic because things were so much better and I didn't understand why I felt so mixed up, I realised that I couldn't. I could name the people who broke my heart and betrayed my trust, but I could not tell you when it happened. I couldn't even tell you how they did it for some from the darker days. Just that I know it happened.
I suppose it does not matter. The past does not scare me these days. I know that, regardless of what happened, I'm a better person now than I believe I've ever been, and my future is forever becoming clearer and brighter. Even on the days where I have no idea where I'll be in a few years, I find myself unconcerned and standing tall and ready to face whatever it is with cheerful optimism that it will be something good. Teenage hormones do not send me into overdrive any more. The concept of backsliding into depression and bad habits does not terrify me any more. I may not be able to simplify my life by removing those that cause me pain or angst, but I have learned to simplify my reaction to them. I've learned it doesn't have to matter.
Still, I cannot help but grit my teeth and stare darkly at those boxes. What is it that I've kept from myself by placing my memories this way? What is it that I've tried to hide?
I don't know that I should hope to ever know.
It's a secret I kept, and what scares me the most is that I kept it from myself. I didn't know I had a secret left to keep, and yet there it was right in front of me. The unguarded truth. I'm nineteen years old and I do not know what happened throughout several years of my life.
I don't know whether to mark this up to how complicated I tend to make things, or whether I should truly be concerned for my health. So many people and places and faces and people ask me how I keep up and the simple fact is that I don't. I didn't. I never did. And then when I tried to retrace the past, so I could make sense of this feeling of impending panic because things were so much better and I didn't understand why I felt so mixed up, I realised that I couldn't. I could name the people who broke my heart and betrayed my trust, but I could not tell you when it happened. I couldn't even tell you how they did it for some from the darker days. Just that I know it happened.
I suppose it does not matter. The past does not scare me these days. I know that, regardless of what happened, I'm a better person now than I believe I've ever been, and my future is forever becoming clearer and brighter. Even on the days where I have no idea where I'll be in a few years, I find myself unconcerned and standing tall and ready to face whatever it is with cheerful optimism that it will be something good. Teenage hormones do not send me into overdrive any more. The concept of backsliding into depression and bad habits does not terrify me any more. I may not be able to simplify my life by removing those that cause me pain or angst, but I have learned to simplify my reaction to them. I've learned it doesn't have to matter.
Still, I cannot help but grit my teeth and stare darkly at those boxes. What is it that I've kept from myself by placing my memories this way? What is it that I've tried to hide?
I don't know that I should hope to ever know.
