Fifteen Years
This time of year is always difficult for me. Difficult. It’s a ridiculous word to describe it really. Difficult? This time of year is always painful for me. Over the years, the pain quotient has varied – some years more, some years less. But always, always , the pain is there. It’s this time of year when the dreams come back strong and I get even less sleep than normal. It’s at this time of year that the memories are strongest; memories that the rest of the year I can push in to the recesses of my mind. Things that most of the time I’d rather be able to forget. I know that’s not only an unrealistic way of dealing with something, it’s not a fair way. It’s just an easy way out of a hard situation, which is hardly a mature way of dealing with anything. But that’s the thing, when those memories are strongest and the pain makes its reappearance, I don’t feel very mature. I feel like that 16-year old girl again who made the right choices, and o