The scars of my past are slowly fading and so long as I don’t shed too much light on them, they remain just ghostly.

Most of the time, to even press ‘post’ feels like too much illumination. Often I find myself editing and eliminating anything that might come too close to full exposure. Physical nudity is nothing like the nakedness of displaying the heart or the mind.

There are certain moments in my life… no… entire years of my life… just missing. All I have of those moments are tiny cryptic notes that were scribbled by shaking hands in an over-medicated state and the memories someone else had to tell me. Some agony is best left unknown to strangers and some best left forgotten even to one’s self.

Sometimes I wonder how different things would be… If instead of being constantly bent to fit someone else’s mold, I had someone there to accept me as I was and be supportive of my differences. If instead of being surrounded by those who sought to convince me that there was no place in this world for someone like me, they shuffled aside and made a little extra space. If the only people that had showed me compassion hadn’t been worlds away.

Then I realize it doesn’t really matter. And the reason why those things happened doesn’t really matter either. The source, once found, turned out to be completely irrelevant.

Everyone has a reason why you should follow in their footsteps instead of finding your own. Maybe because every path is treacherous, winding, and unknown. It’s so much easier if the path ahead is already clear cut, but I’ve always had the tendency to wander.

There’s always a scapegoat for every complaint, a reason not to take personal responsibility. But I find a strange comfort in knowing every mistake I’ve ever made has at least been my own. I like knowing I’ve fought my wars on the right battlefield where they needed to be waged. It helps me avoid that stagnant place where my evolution as a person might cease to continue. Reaching a plateau is as devastating to me as falling into any sort of decline.

I’m finally gaining some semblance of the stability and sanity I’ve strived so long for. The kind of thing a few short years ago I barely had the capacity to understand even existed. I still greet acts of kindness with a degree of uncertainty. I’m still not used to the thought of anyone being nice without a hidden agenda. But the cruel and manipulative people I once knew are long gone from my life and for the most part, even their names are forgotten. A reprieve from violence and hatred at long last.

I like to think I shy away from human contact less and less as time passes. I doubt if I’ll ever find the same liberation in socialization as I do in isolation.

I was immersed in darkness far too long. It’s become ingrained in my personality, an integral piece of my being that I’m not convinced I’d know how to function without. It’s source no longer external, but embedded deep within my core.

I’m always going to be off kilter, a tad bit morbid and strange. If anything, it’s offered me more opportunity to explore my own perspective - often through some artistic medium. I can’t claim I’ll ever accomplish anything grandiose, but I’ll settle for the experience of a life lived. It’s certainly better than the alternative.