I feel like spilling my guts today for some reason.

Today was just another day that I spent reflecting on the past. Reflecting on who I used to be; the person that fucked up near anything and everything I happened to lay hands on. Thinking back on just how fucked everything used to be, on how drink and drugs used to be my only morality, on how drink and drugs used to be my only religion.

Am I the only one with a past? Fuck no. Everyone has a past. We all have done shit that was horrible, we all have done people and things we regret, we all have times that we wish we could just white-out forever. But fuck if that stops me from feeling like shit. I can’t help but hate the person I used to be.

I mean, what the fuck was wrong with me? I’ve used one of the best friends I’ve had for free drugs, free rent, and free sex. I’ve razed that bridge to the ground; that beautiful fucking bridge that only wanted the best for me. She was a great person, and just because she had a crush on me I decided to milk that for all it was fucking worth; the selfish prick I was.

My entitled ass basically got a free-fucking-ride in college and I elected to spend that time partying and wasting money. Spending my lunch money on rolls and alcohol, spending my class hours getting fucked up on everything known to man, and spending my parent’s trust on gas towards being shit-faced and on girls that didn’t even know my name.

And at the verge of rock-bottom, I spent my days pretending to apply for jobs. I spent that time shoplifting instead of job-hunting. I spent that time selling children’s video-games stolen from Sears to Gamestops and Book-Offs and spending that money on Oxys and Morphine. I used my smile as a distraction and brain as a means to another opiate.

And then finally I hit rock bottom; thank fucking god. I spent a weekend in jail sobering up from 2 decades of being fucked up. Being sober after 20 years not isn’t exactly an easy road to traverse. But I did it somehow. And even after I was out, I still fucked up, of course. I fucked up a lot. I mean shit; I’m still fucking up today, now and then But I guess I’m just happy I’m making an effort now. Happy that I realize who and what the fuck I used to be. Happy that I realized if I was still was on that same road today I would be dead right now.

And yes, I realize I’ve had it fucking easy. My sob story ain’t shit compared to that of other people I’ve met in my life. My autobiography would barely rate as a mundane teaser for the shit that other people have went through, had to deal with, had to fucking live as the story of their lives.

And I know this. But that’s probably one of the major reasons I’m even writing this right now. Because I just want to exposit my stupid, honest opinion about this subject; one which doesn’t require a degree or severity to be relevant.

I really just feel like if I could pick one thing that was most important, one thing that after 23-short-fucking-years on this earth I would use as a quote on my tombstone, it would be “fuck the past.”

Yeah, the past is always there, yeah the past is something you need to learn from, yeah the past is never going to go away; ever. But the past is just that; the past.

Yeah, duh, learn from that shit. I mean, if we just forgot about it, we would end up like The Great Gatsby or something. Fuck that; it’s always gonna be there; it’s always going to be a prologue to the rest of our life.

It’s fucking hard, but it’s still something we have to come to terms with. All it is is something to learn from; something to never fucking do again.

My life ain’t been shit compared to other people I’ve met. But even so, the truth isn’t any different; for anyone, no matter who you are.

The past is all prologue. Learn from it. Don’t run from it. It exists sure, but the person who lived those fucked-up times doesn’t exist anymore.

Only you, the person who is living in the here and now, exists. So learn, and one day maybe forgive yourself.

Seriously, forgive yourself. If I fucking deserve it; you do too.

One piece of paper with a few little words on it, that's all.

"Congratulations, Sophia!

You've been accepted to the Center School. News for incoming freshmen....."

There were definitely more words.

But those were the only ones I cared about.

Escaping from the dirty looks and whispered insults; the smug smiles on the faces of preps, jocks, dropouts and lowlifes of my second school might be the coward's way out, but either way, I was taking it and bombing away from the memories of that trash hole as fast as possible.

Three years seemed like thirty with a cafeteria full of crappy food and people judging, judging, judging themselves and others.

Every one of you know: all I do is complain about that dump, but honestly, I couldn't be happier.

I made it through my last year alongside seven and a half friends.

Now I'm sprouting up in an altogether different environment with par-zero people in my comfort zone.

Starting over should be great if you don't count the socializing, and I'm not going to miss a thing.

I stare intently at the opposing pitcher as she readied to release the ball. She swung back, swung forwards, windmilled...and let the ball go.

I prayed that it would be a bad ball. True enough, it rolled right past my feet and the other team groaned.

"Ball 1" the umpire screamed.

She readied herself and pitched again. I swung and missed.

"Strike 1" the umpire roared.

She pitched again and I watched the ball come towards me, angling the bat just so, and...

"BONG" went the ball. I stared after it in shock, then regain my sense and run as fast as I can.

A single. Just a single.

But it's enough to snatch the win.

I run home a hero.