We spend all our lives, as if swimming in a dense ocean with our hands outstretched, trying to find that perfect fit. That perfect match. We grow picky, we grow jaded from mistakes and miscalculated calibrations. A wave hits us and unexpectedly, in surprise, a hand grasps our own and the heat and warmth so familiar. We're found, pulled up to the surface to breathe.
I've not looked at my scars in a long time. I see and I remember, all the stupidity and foolishness of youth. Of naivete and ignorance. Miscalculations indeed. They won't fade, not that they're meant to. I've not looked at them for a long time. I've not remembered in awhile. It's about time I make sure I don't make the same mistakes like I did in the past.
Time to make sure that the constant of change, is towards progression and not regression.
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