The deeper and harder hitting question is this: Will I ever be the person I once was? I write this while listening to Metallica, so I know that portions of my fractured identity have survived. But what about the rest of me? Will I ever be the guy I used to be? Can I? Do I even want to? I don't know, and only time will tell.
I hoped that writing this out would be cathartic, and last night as I penned the above paragraphs my psyche felt as though it was on the cusp of something good, be it a helpful introspective realization, an acceptance of all that's happened, or even a peace that would allow me to get a good night's sleep. But now as I reread them, I feel as though nothing has happened.
Maybe I should have kept writing last night. Maybe I'm too embedded in the turmoil to be able to notice the forest through all of the trees that block it from my view. Heck if I know.