We weren’t ready. When our youth clenched its fingers on to our soft heels that had yet to walk the earth, we decided to walk the hard and abrasive surfaces instead. We walked and walked until we bore cracks of shame; shame of where we’d been. When nostalgia came knocking on our doors so as to remind us of where we were coming from, we ignored. We treated our memories as outcasts and told them they weren’t pretty enough to form a part of the story that is our lives. We bitched and moaned, looking for substance in emptiness and pretence. We rid ourselves of all that pertained to the people we were becoming and ran in the opposite direction, towards what we deemed nirvana. We ran around and danced to a façade that was the handpicked soundtrack to our lives...
F**k that. I wasn’t ready.
