Running wild

When I was young

And moving fast

Nothing slowed me down

A tiny piece of paper falls out of my desk drawer and suddenly I'm a hot mess. Wounds resurface, things get misty and time starts to blur.

Three big gulps, two red cheeks and one pounding head later, this weary soul has hit the sheets.

And the rest is history.

History. The past. Dead and gone. Not to be repeated.

It's time to take out the trash.