I make excuses about why I am in that same old familiar position again, especially when I know the internal dialogue that I have already had that warned me against getting to the very spot that I am in now.
My life is full of fragments. Nobody knows them all but me. Not even the person closest to me really has any idea. All the people in my life see pieces, different pieces a fresh aspect of the whole that is me.
Here I am. At this place, now.
While waiting to revisit the past I realised with sadness that I am like a spectre chained to old haunts. I am somewhere that I don’t want to be because I no longer get pleasure from these visits, I am desperate to banish the hold of this personal millstone in my life.
The strength to move comes from somewhere deep inside of me. As I leave again I feel both victorious and desolate. The glory comes from being strong enough to leave again – with minimal damage, and the desolation comes from the fact that I was ever in this place again.