forgetting is the hard part.

The forgetting is the hard part.
Because everything I so desperately want to forget
is everything that has helped mold me into the person I am right at this minute.
And I like who I am.

The heavy hurt,
like someone had lain upon my body and was suffocating me with their weight,
the tears that never seemed to end,
the grieving of a friendship that was beyond broken,
the ache that comes with a first lost love,
the hopelessness, the desertion,
the deep fiery red hatred for someone you had once been inseparable from,
the insecurities that plagued each day.

It was all worth something, even though the cost knocked me down.
I eventually stood my ground, smiled at the sun, and knew that I could do this.
I am this.
I am this.


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