Rereading <too much happiness> from Alice Munro
The thing about past is that you'll constantly feel that you are over it, and then it will constantly come back. Memories are like a broken glasses. It cannot be rewound. You'll have to spend the rest of your life running away from it. That's alright. The worst part was when you were unable to move. When you were in the spell. You heart pounding, but not even able to touch yourself. That's the worst part.
It's OK to run. I've come to accept certain part of memory is like a page in my book. Nothing I do can ever tear it off. But after thousand times rereading the page, I've learnt to break the spell by adding bright annotations on it.
One day, it will become even.
One day, all the cuts will heal and I'll get the best of myself.