A string of moments

I remember once, holding onto my past with all my might, wishing and hoping with every part of me that time would rewind, and the space in between would not matter, and life would pick up at a happy memory and go on the way I wanted it to.

I remember once, knowing without doubt, that I knew what should have happened, how it should’ve happened and what should not have happened and that everything that had occurred behind me was a grave mistake that the universe would undo once she realised the error of her ways.

I remember once, fighting against every new chance, every new opportunity, bathing myself in the old and lost and not forgotten, desperately clinging to an idealised movie of my past as though it was the only truth, enveloping myself in the bubble wrap of defiance.

I remember, deciding to let go and discovering that it could not be done in one moment but that it was a string of moments woven together by courage and hope that made possible a new path, a string of moments, both torturous and exquisite.

I remember, the moments that took me forward and the moments that took me back, swinging between the yearning of the past and the craving for the future, a string of moments that slowly began writing a new chapter I had not noticed I had began.

I remember the moment where I looked back and the past had become my history.

© Christie Marie Kruger 2013

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About Christie Marie Ginja Kruger

Orenda (huron)The power of human will to change the world. Set up as an opposing force to fate or destiny. If powerful forces beyond your control are trying to force a particular outcomes, orenda is a kind of vocalised summoning of personal strength to change this. A giant child, trying to find my purpose, without losing sight of all things beautiful. View all posts by Christie Marie Ginja Kruger

2 responses to “A string of moments

  • utalapwrx

    These feelings are all too familiar to me. There were moments when my past would cling to every action I made in the present, and I would let it. Things went that way for a long time until I woke up one day and realized that for some reason I no longer carry my feelings the way I once had — that something was different. I loved the moment when I had to ask myself, “When did this happen?” — the moment when I don’t remember walking away… but somehow, I think I already did.

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