Dead Horses

CheneyOn Life0 Comments

Sometimes I hate reading things I’ve written in the past. 

When I found of all of these bits of writing on the other day, when I was looking for some of the old things I’ve written, I found a lot that might have been better left UNFOUND.

Sometimes nostalgia gets you. It’s just beating a dead horse, and the horse is old and rotted and stinky. 

Sometimes it hurts more because you know you don’t NEED the reminder of things right in your face, because they are always there in your head anyway. This is from 2002:

Even now, he is every pair of deep brown eyes I look into, every man I laugh to tears with. He is every comforting voice on the telephone, every pair of converse sneakers, painfully familiar.

Some things don’t ever change.

Feel like sharing some thoughts?