Ten years have slipped away now, since that sordid day.  Yet the sting never abates.  Tomorrow promises a brighter day.  But tomorrow is a liar.  I've come to accept my scars.  Painful though they may be, they are a thing of beauty.  Whispers of my past, culminating into--amassing--creating a different version of myself.  So much can happen in ten years.  Every day pushes me farther away, and yet the past is reachable instantaneously.  I suppose moments of true significance are those that become seared onto the brain.  The human mind is a fascinating thing.  In a flash, our memories of sights, sounds, and emotions can be experienced in the present. I wish we could remember everything that we experience.  Yet it seems our brain pushes out a lot. 

It's too late.