For years I had live in the acceptance that nothing would ever change and then in a split second that changed. It sounds dramatic and tbh, it was. All the cliches you can think of, I’ve been there, been that, lived that. Each and every fucking one of them.
Behind me are twelve years of lessons. A story that ended in a bloody climax but was at the same time, the birth of me. Rise, revolution, rebirth, whatever you want to call it, it woke me up.
Still, although I have a lot of information and is the puzzle nearly complete, it will never be fully done. There will always be a part of that story that I will never know. Simply because it’s preserved in somebody else’s mind, not mine. Therefor inaccessible.
And you know, it really doesn’t matter anymore. This is my story, nobody else’s. He was an actor in my play, nothing more. What matters is what happened to me, why did I make the choices I made, why did I agree to give up on life. Why did I allow myself to start dying before dead.
This past year was by far the most brutal year I’ve ever lived through. Coming from me that means something. It was also the most liberating year of my life. Everything has changed, my surroundings are different, my circle and the meaning they have in my life has changed. The world outside is changing before my eyes, eyes that view in a new way, different. Everything has changed. I am free.
