Things and people wonder why I am what I am, and I don’t even really know the answer to that one. I leave the past behind these days, though, reading over the past, it seems I never really used to. I must have got over it somewhere along the line. I wish I knew when, it would make things easier in a way, though I wonder if it relly would. I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know. But I know this. I know I live, I know I love, I know I care, and I know I am what I am because of the things I have been through, and the things I have been. I don’t think I want to go back anymore. I am getting to the point where I like the fact that I have moved on. I know the past is there, but it does not bother me so much anymore.
No longer do I wander listless naked and profane.
No longer do I despair over things lingering and passing.
No longer do I notice the trails of blood and scratch marks that never but always heal.
Transformation.
I morph.
I grow.
I heal.
I look.
I live.
I love.