Moon.Violet.Pigments

Have you ever grieved for your past self? Or felt on some level you were different, as if that person is not you?

I find myself pausing, every so often... to just grieve.

I justify these recollections as a duty to myself- those melancholic, or more tragic, moments that felt at one time like the only crack in my foundation. Now they've slipped, along with other grains of sand, through my loosening grasp to settle - to resolve.
But isn't that what time does? It pacifies.

These little f ragm ents of me, static, and dug out from the misc. drawer labled "past"
...
I grieve, as if to pick up the pieces, to make sense of time in frame for the future