To Someone who will Never See This

Your arrival is one of frustration. You're always depressed. You never have anything good or happy to say. And what gets me is not any of that. What gets me is that that used to be me. My days were full of crying, mourning over my losses. I was the curator of my own Museum of Pain and Heartache. Free extensive tours any time of the day or night. That was almost 10 years ago. In almost 10 years I have finally moved on, just a little. Enough that I can now talk about my happy things. I can find my happy things. I can rejoice in life's little pleasures. I can have lighthearted conversations. Conversations that don't center around my Museum of Pain and Heartache. I can talk and act as if that museum doesn't even exist. And if I can do that, then maybe in the next 10 years I can be twice as far. 10 years. It's so long. Can I be patient with myself for another 10 years while I grow and learn and reexperience life? And then another 10 years after that. I never realized until tonight what truth there is in the words I've been told all so often. "You're lucky that you're working through everything while you're still young."