Musings on bad memories

Please read the foreword to this before continuing reading. Wriggling onto the actual post now…

I’m one of those people who don’t regret. Not as in I don’t feel bouts of regret now and then, but just that if I actually had the chance to do everything over again, I won’t change a thing. I probably talked about this, everything that I’ve experienced makes me who I am today and I won’t deny me my identity for by doing so I’d be denying my own existence.

Bad memories suck, they’re fucked up, they make you cringe, they make you cry…but hey what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger, so you can always puff up about how you’ve survived so much shit and is still standing. In addition, your bad memories make your happy memories more valuable. So as an advocate for your memories (sh…they secretly sponsored this book! =P) please treasure your bad memories as you do your happy ones. They’re a part of you, they define you, they ARE you.

Musings on bad memories

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