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They always say that there's this one big moment in your life. The one that makes you or breaks you. That one that your would-be therapist would call the turning point. I never believed that. Life, to me, was just this flow, and the little things would add up eventually. That those would land you at 'this is you' and it was just some progression like weaning yourself off a drug. I believed this for a long time. When I was younger of course I wasn't this philosophical or analytical. That came with age and. I suppose I was too young to be thinking like that but I was subconciously. And then. It happened. It felt huge. It was an elephant sitting on my chest. On my life, my perceptions, beliefs. I was crushed under the oppresive weight of what I'd done, and more importantly what it meant. And I could never really think it out straight because, to you, it never happened. I never thought it would affect me, outside of my emotions. I was wrong. Now I'm having to face this again, and every action of my mind is riddled with you