As I Look Upon The Morning Star

The Past Come Back To Haunt Me

There are days that the memories of my former self come back for a little visit, memories that I wish would stay away. A life like mine is full of regrets: regrets about the pain I've caused others.

Last night I got an email from an old "friend" of mine; a man that caused me as much pain as I caused him; a man through whom I caused others to experience pain. I can tell you that it was all his fault, that he spun a web of lies in which my wing got caught; I can give you a line that my motives were totally pure; I can easily brush the experience under the rug and pretend to have never known the man.

The facts remain: I was getting ready to run away from my life, and this man looked like the perfect avenue out. I had unrealistic expectations of him, and an unrealistic view of myself. I became what he wanted for my own gain; when he would not reciprocate, I moved on to the next sucker. He was as devious as I was, so he also moved on. Another bridge burned.

When my next sucker did not pan out as I'd hoped and I'd subsequently burned that bridge, I got a good look at myself, and didn't like what I saw. It was time for me to stop being selfish; to stop running; to stop living a lie.

I wish I could take back all that pain I caused.

Living authentically is a huge challenge, especially when protecting myself with dishonesty was like second nature. I periodically slip back into that behavior, but catch myself and correct it as soon as possible. Morality isn't as easy as I want it to be; but it's far better than the alternative.

About the old "friend"; I contemplated writing him a letter, reopening a dialogue with this man for an instant. I briefly let the events of my torrid affair resurface--the way I was then, wasting time playing stupid emotional games with so many people. I can dwell on the mistakes I've made, wishing away the pain I inflicted upon those poor victims of my bad behavior, or I can accept the forgiveness that is mine and get on with my life.

I emailed him back: "She's dead."