They're like shadows, always with me, holding my peace of mind hostage. Just a sound, a smell, or a word, and I'm back in those heart-wrenching moments, overwhelmed by fear and doubt.
Regret weighs heavily on me. Why was I there? Why did I make that choice? I should've known better. This regret slowly morphs into anger, an anger that simmers inside me. It's directed at others for not preventing my mistake, at the world for not being what I needed, but mostly, at myself.
But letting go isn't about forgetting; it's about accepting. Accepting that the past happened and that the past cannot be changed. Accepting that that the lessons I've learned are tools for etching a better future, not for altering the past. And accepting that redemption comes from making amends that let my conscience proudly proclaim, "I am good, so let the world judge as it must."