Whenever I found cause to reflect on inferences derived from the taste of foreign languages, I judged myself unworthy. And in those cataclysmic moments of belief, everything appeared peculiar.
And when owning unwanted leisure, I would resurrect expired memories that confirmed my existence as less than substantive, allowing the hatred of myself to continue.
There is no better motivator for change than the bitterness of finding one’s-self alone in the late stage of life. All the while, truth demands recognition from the depths of denial, no matter the shame. I no longer have room nor a desire to carry the excuses for my transgressions. It’s about forgiveness of myself for the ill-treatment of myself by myself.
For causing you so much pain in this life, I am truly sorry, Self. “Apology accepted.” (Smiles)
~ Cynthia Lynn
My Categorized Life 