
My reaction, my thoughts around it, my emotions. All crumpled up in a similar fashion come pouring out. It isn't a joy to analyze it later to choose what to change, for clearly, I have learnt little from the previous moment.
But the familiarity of those wounds, the recollection of those memories, the recognition of the repetition, make it frustrating and revealing.
I wonder what attracts these moments to me. Or what compels me towards them. Whose power is greater?
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