memories...
Memories fuck me up, i see the past as a necessary thing in order to learn however memory often hurts me. This pain has been a constant for the past years of my life, i've never learned to deal with it.
Memories have deamons, they can be deamons of guilt, deamons of remorse, deamons of the great 'what if' and deamons of good memories of better times.
I've fought all of them, and won most. However sometimes they come back to fuck with my mind. And no matter how many times i come to terms with them they always comeback.
Memories are thorns in my soul.
I hear them, i feel them, i remember them, i smell them, i can almost touch them... memories are made of emotions and a mix of images, words and strange sensations.
Sometimes i dwell in the past for too long, it's better now but still i often wonder too much in them.
The past....
What happened makes me who i am, and i've come to accept who i am. I am what my memories make me...
Deamons...
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