May 24, 2015
My past is my dearest friend. We talk about the good old days. Laugh about the crazy things we did. Cry about the things we lost, & sometimes cry because someone hurt us.
She still gets really angry about things, but not as much as she used to. I tell her it's ok and explain to her that anger never solved anything. Worry and stress never get anything accomplished.
I tell her I started to paint! I show her some of my drawings. I make sure to point out all the sloppy mistakes I'd made in the beginning and how much I've progressed in the better ones toward the end. I go on to explain what I learned and how I taught myself. I go through everything. One thing leads to another and I tell her about all the fantastical things I've experienced. And then when I was alone for a very long time how I learned to observe and listen. I extrapolate all my life's experiences to be able to understand others in a new light. Like I decoded a secret message or learned a new language.
I tell her how much I've learned about people, about life, and about myself. I tell her I could never be where I am today if it wasn't for her.
She blushes but says, "Yeah. I know." Then she smiles and tells me she's proud of me. "I'll always be here if you need to talk."