Because I had to, I dealt with it. Not pretty, not comfortable, but not miserable.

Let it go, let it be, move ahead. I could choose if I want to be a recluse for the rest of my days or I would use it to the fullest and atone for it later.

I can't hate myself, yet. Everytime I close my eyes I think of it, think of what would happen if I didn't. But guess what, it did, and I can't do anything but to rectify it.

Healed by the people whom may or may not know, cause or alleviate it, actions or words.

I'll take what I can get now. Like a toddler, awkward fumbling, but facing.