I read something (ironically) not too long ago that stuck in my head about the past being the past. Things in the past are exactly that. They’re static and don’t change. If I were to dwell on the past, I would resurrect the old me. I have these long latent voices of things I used to think that circle on occasion. It’s funny, how when you’re in one particular phase of your life, you rebel at any thought of being different. You’re so “in the now”, as they say. Old ghosts have no power over me. I can remember without breaking.

As of late, things keep on propelling me forward at a rate that makes me think I’ll soon sprout wings and take flight. And that is something that would completely be okay with me.