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I close my eyes and think about when I was little, my life was so different.
I miss those moments, the little carefree things, the small gestures, the happiness I felt even just for the butter cookie baked by grandma.
I ate so many of those cookies when I became a, but they didn’t taste the same as they did then.
I miss walking down the stairs in my pajamas, trying to get to the Christmas presents first, looking for my present, opening it with speed, leaving the paper strewn on the carpet.
I miss the taste of warm Vanilla milk that my mother used to make, on the first day of the year.
I miss my mother.
I wonder sometimes when my life fell apart, how much did I throw away?
They say it’s fate, but I don’t believe it, it can’t be fate, I can’t blame fate all the time.
It’s not fate’s fault that I slept with the sister, of the woman I loved.
I did it, I wanted it.
I ruined an entire family. It wasn’t fate.
Like a wind, I used my life without paying attention to where I went, and where I stopped, nor the pain I created, when like a hurricane I passed and destroyed everything and everyone.
On the surface, I was living a life of follies and excesses, stealing joy from those who deserved it more than me.
I miss my friend Tom, I miss his laugh when he hid the chocolate reindeer under the Christmas tree for my little sister Debby.
I tried to change, maybe what I became was even worse.
Devoured by a black shadow, draining my soul, I saw her with sharp teeth, laughing at me.
To make it stop, I made it become part of me, we laughed together, at other people’s problems, like greedy vampires we fed on the essence of the desperation of those condemned to live.
I never understood my father’s sacrifice, I always lived it with anger.
Selfish, petty, cowardly to the end, blind, greedy with resentment, I craved revenge, but mine was a pathetic excuse, to hide the anger and hide the guilt.
Then I became a father, an absentee father.
Only then did I understand the sacrifice of my own father.
For my children, I would do it all over again.
I was a terrible husband to a wonderful woman, able to break whatever obstacle was in front of her, able to get back on her feet every time she fell, even when I was the one who made her fall.
Am I a horrible person?
I don’t want to be my past anymore, but I can be because of it, my future.
Redemption is a long road, it starts with us, to get to the end of the journey, to us.
I made my envy and selfishness, my shield island. And that damned island that I built for myself changed me, humiliated me, took my life, and made mud out of it, and I came out of that mud, I changed but I didn’t get clean.
The black monster is always inside me whispering unhealthy wrong ideas, but now I don’t listen to him anymore, now I’ve become something else.
I live what’s left of my life, trying to eradicate the evil I’ve done to the world, even if it means dying again and again.
Multiple lives destroyed, I couldn’t save, running like a rabbit.
I watched entire worlds disintegrate before my eyes as I ran, like a coward.
I promised myself that I had to make a difference, even for one person, even for one single tear stopped before it was born.
The first was her because when I saw her eyes, I saw reflected in them the same monster that was eating me.
My memories are my sacred place, my source of life to be a better man.
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