past is past but it still semi-haunts. bad dreams of times past and little residual effects (which could be far worse than they are, but are always difficult to explain) pop up and make themselves known to those who would notice, and the only one that really knows why can’t won’t don’t want to explain, not without sounding like she’s whinging, playing victim, or letting the past get to her too much. it’s all a trick of the eye – if you know the truth, you know the truth, and if you don’t know the truth, all you know is what you see, and nothing more.
gotta let him in somehow. have to find a way to explain it, so that it doesn’t sound worse than it is, but doesn’t make it out to be less than it is. it is part of what made me who i am, for better or for worse, but it’s nothing more than that.