Repeating your mistakes won’t make them better

Sometimes, it’s healthy to take a look back.

Nothing wrong with taking stock of what you missed out the first time; so long as you don’t attempt to live in your recollections.

Memory is a funny thing – it’ll kick in just when you least want it, failing you when you grapple for it desperately under pressure.

I realise that maybe I’m missing something. That I’m not moving forward and getting on with the rest of my life the way I should.

I’m rather sick of this, really.

The angsty blogposts.

Playing the same old songs over and over again.

Trying too hard not to think about things also has the effect of keeping them more firmly in your mind.

I should be busy living a full life, instead of being stuck on my hangups.

Shoulds. Musts.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m lugging around a sack of my favourite misgivings, heartaches and grudges. That I’m nursing them the way someone would a glass of firewater.

Is angst so addictive, that I draw on it as often as a smoker does his cancer sticks?

Perhaps.

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