that I’m a result
of all the decisions I’ve made in the past;
all the people who have influenced me,
in a positive or a negative way:
my loves, my breakups, my disappointments.
Without them, I wouldn’t be me
but, I don’t carry them on my back
they don’t define who I am now.
I create myself
from moment to moment;
what is the point of living?
The past is faded, imprecise memories —
people who are no longer what they seemed to be —
a view from a faulty lens.
I have baggage —