The methods of healing wounds have always conflicted, with differing rates of success. Some even conclude by making the wound deeper. But eventually it heals. When you stroke the tender scar, your heart reminds you of the pain you once went through, and the pain you carry still.
There are many things we move on from, some we look back with regret. Blasts from the past just takes you back to memories where you once experienced an innocent joy.
But growing up often means growing away and growing part from others. Many lessons you learn alone.
In the crowd, you recognise a face. A face whom you put aside for a long time, and struggle to remember its features and contours. But the heart leaps are unmistakable, only now more cautious, and oh so wary and weary.
And you turn away, because you don't know what else to do.
And turning away has become something you are so good at, it becomes second nature to you.
Some guilt you forget, some you live with everyday. A burden which weighs you down, apologies never enough. You struggle to get your reasons across, only to fall on death ears because you know your feeble excuses will never be good enough.
You want to say a thousand words, a million words.
But as they say, the past belongs to the past.
It's a mockery, but reality.
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld from M1.