Ghosts of the past.

Ah, the power of words.
Everyone would think that a writer, of all people, would know its' power.
I thought I knew.
But I didn't.

Words that I wrote from a long, long time ago are coming back to haunt me.
And I guess, it burns.

I don't feel the need to apologize for those words though.
No.
Because at that time, it was how I felt.
And yes, maybe, it was bad.
But it was how I felt.
I am not going to pretend these feelings didn't exist.
Because the last time I did, it turned out badly.
If you feel the need to talk about it, come to me.
But if you don't, then, it's alright.

I am not going to lie.
I do not miss my childhood friends.
But I don't hate them either.

However, I am tired.
Tired of trying so hard, only to get burned.
Tired of helping, only to get stabbed.

But it also makes me sad.
Because I wished that we did not have a falling out.
Sadly, we did.

And as my other friends said, what is done is done.
Now, I have to move on.
And so do they.