So the problem, i've found out, while writing heaps and bawling and being a frightful mess,
is that I still remember.
And the bits of right now, although not all that frequent, brings back this horrible memory that still has me clutching my people and squeezing my eyes shut.
But the thing is, it's not your fault.
It really isn't.
It's just familiar, that's all. And that's why it hurts.
Because sometimes (just a handful of times, times that you can count with your fingers),
it feels like I'm back where I didn't want to be.
And I won't ever be ready to go back there.