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  • It's been almost 2 months. I've been great, I've been moving on with my life graciously. I've been trying new things, learning new things, being around new things. I've been busy, taking care of my life, planning for my future. I've been happy. Just simply Happy. I've gotten stronger as a person. The lesson has definitely been learned and I'm finally finding this new person inside me.

    It's been almost 2 months. Yet I still feel it. Wounds. Although I've been better than ever. I've been happy. I realized that the heartbreak I've been through still left me with numerous side effects. I still feel it. The wounds that were left behind. I guess the better way to describe this is that, although my pain has healed, the memory of the pain still trumps a lot of things in my present. It's almost like I finally escaped from one dreadful place, and too afraid to explore another.

    "Why are you insecure." he asks me. Shit. I wish I knew why also I thought in my head. I guess sometimes I get carried away. I tend to look at raw details and nothing in between them; I tend to disregard what ties them together. It's almost like I take little puzzle pieces and rearrange them my own way. Most of the time in a way that I choose to understand and visualize it, Most of the time, far from what the original puzzle is supposed to look like.

    After some thought, I realized insecurity isn't the issue here. It's kind of...the opposite. It's security. It's protection. It's a plan not to go back to that dreadful place again. More simply put, a guard. The feeling of things being too good to be true. The worry that once you start really truly believing it, that you are making yourself vulnerable to being hurt. The truth that once is yours, will make it something tangible enough to be taken away. The feeling of letting go, means the permission to let yourself fall, without knowing where you will land.

    Stubbornness is probably one of the top 3 traits the closest people to me will give to me. I don't feel insecure. I just had too much pain in my past to be able to admit I do care. Too stubborn to be able to just say how I feel, and to just truly let go. These wounds inside me seems to be lingering around me even though the memory of their creator have already faded back into the past. These wounds still hang around, all I know is that they are there, they are hard to explain, and even harder for anyone else besides myself to understand. As for now they are just there, like an old receipt I still keep around in my purse, waiting for the time to come where I can take it out and make a return. Use the goods to go make myself a new purchase I can truly keep.
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