Upon reflection, I've realized a couple of things this year. There are some things that have been buried so deep within me, things that I've refused to acknowledge or accept, which have been clawing its way out from my chest these past few months. No matter how hard you try to hold on to water, it eventually slips through the cracks in your fingers. Slowly, gradually, until the palm of your hand is dry and there's nothing left. When that has happened, is there any point in trying to grasp it again?
Maybe. Maybe things could've been different. What if. What if I had told you earlier? What and if, the two scariest words one can put together in a sentence. Would things be different if I had? Would we be less broken? Could I have prevented this? How long do we have to continue this farce? When will the curtains come down and the audience start clapping?
I don't know. Nobody knows. All I know is, I wish I were a child again. When the world was simple and I could be carefree.