Inspired by the prompt “vacuum of time” on a writing community.

Everybody else supposedly does this: move on, move forward. I don’t like looking back, but sometimes it feels like for many years all I did was survive. I didn’t show my true self or enjoy what I could have easily reached for. But then again… easily? What is easy about stepping out of a comfort zone where I’d had the chance to lick my wounds and make some sense of out who I was and what I wanted out of this life that had meted out some painful blows to my pride? What is easy about reaching out to other souls one cannot feel are acting out of genuine kindness?

So, yes, I retreated. For many years. Knew exactly who I was, but could not find any reason to reveal this renewed strength, for I could not find any truth in this world.

Jaded.

Yes, I was jaded, at an age of bright-eyed discovery and pleasure-seeking. I found escape twice, but always reverted back to that same old stasis that reeled me back, ever back into those moving sands of time, drawn into memories haunting me or drawing laughs out of this closed room.

Is this it? Is this what I was created for? I asked myself incessantly in those days. I was but a shell, you see.

I look back on those days as the dark veil over what has now become my time… my time to shine and show I am more than the shell and what my past tried to indict upon me.

Time, begone. But time, let me not forget these trying days gone by, for they are my unlikely strength and my dire weapon.