Nobody tells you what it will be like when you look back. Sure they may tell you, but nobody TELLS you.
Fortunate are those who did not have the same experiences, both suffering in pleasure, and pleasuring through suffering.
Fortunate are the ones who can go through the experience and come out a stronger person, a well rounded
individual who can build an empire on an experience of a lifetime. A first time can never be replicated or duplicated,
it can only be remembered and never forgotten. Sure, there will be a second and a third, but the first,
that is always in another realm that differs from the rest, like it or not.
The fine details are recalled. The taste and the smell, the feeling and the moment.
Eyes that pierce, both soft and fierce.
The touch of her hand, soft and warm. Two bodies intertwined and tempting the laws of physics to
inch closer and closer until it is impossible to be any closer. Intimate in every sense of the word,
yet distant after years of maturity and growing.
These experiences are our tattoos. They are not physical, but emotional. Every single one of us
develops these tattoos that have meaning in our lives, most call them memories. They are symbols and symbolic
of times that have passed, and memories that can not die, not matter how much
we try to repress them. Is repression even necessary? If our experiences make us who we are today,
then why try to hold back and hide memories just because they did not have a happy ending?
Happy endings are in stories and fairy tales, often times not in reality, because there is only truly one ending.
Everything else can be considered a chapter, a chapter in a book that is individual to all of us. We have lives that are precious
and we should let our memories be expressed as a previous chapter, some many many pages ago. Just like a book in progress,
there are blank pages and chapters ahead, a clean slate to be made from its author, you.