It’s funny how you never let go of the memories, of the times gone by. And everything you do is a constant reminder of the past, no matter how good, bad or ugly it had been. The game of blame, the passing of bucks, the if onlys and what ifs, the rewinding of the memory tapes, and replaying it with a better ending each time. The scratching of the wounds never really stops, does it?
You try to think what you could have done differently, what you could have done better, and how you could have reacted - the possibilities are numerous and the outcomes are as numerous as the possibilities. Sometimes, you see endings just like the way you envisioned them to be, but mostly, the endings are the same – a reflection of the present. There are times when you hate the circumstances more than the person responsible for it and at other times you hate the person with an equal vengeance. Many a time, you hate yourself too.
It’s a cross you have to bear on your own, the burden of shattered dreams, of dark nights and darker days, of loneliness, of tears, and that feeling of futility that never seems to go away.
No, time doesn’t heal.