Why Would I Even Bother?

- Intermezzo -

I didn’t know any better back then.

That is to say, I didn’t know how to know better.

I always felt like there was a lot I didn’t quite understand about life. But rather than question it, I thought that was the way it was supposed to be.

It somehow felt like I was being blamed for it all. But I didn’t accept it, I didn’t think it was my fault.

When bad things started to happen, I grew resentful.

Why me?

Why am I so unlucky?

What on earth did I do to deserve this?

I wanted to be happy, to be accepted, to be liked.

This happened from time to time, but never often or long enough.

'That’s just the way it is,' I thought to myself. 'Nothing anyone can do about it.'

But it’s strange.

Strange because I didn’t even know these were the thoughts in my head at the time. Didn’t realize they were even there.

All I focused on was the pain. It hurt for a long time. I thought it would never end.

But it did end.

Doesn’t mean you’ll never suffer again–it would take a pretty naïve person to believe that.

All it means is if you let go of the past it doesn’t repeat itself, not that it will ever stop trying to pull you back in.

But there came a point when I was no longer afraid. I wasn’t scared to go back there, to go as far back as possible.

I found that I actually wanted to, because there was a ton of good stuff I had forgotten.

And when I think of these good things, it makes me happy. But what's most surprising is that I don’t mind feeling sad either.

All that bad stuff wasn’t so bad after all.

All that bad stuff made the good stuff better somehow.

That might be the kind of thing you wish you could say to your younger self. But honestly, I wouldn’t even bother.

If I did, I still wouldn't have known any better.