A Tale with Yarvin Molar

Iwas thirty-three years old when a flood of memories from my childhood came flooding back, flooding back as if the kid who’d plugged, had now unplugged his finger from the dyke and I was now being overrun with memories that’d been laying in wait deep down inside my subconscious mind, memories for very obvious reasons, I had suppressed, though, at the time, I was consciously oblivious to the fact those memories were being buried on a day-to-day basis.

Beneath all of that though, I was already at the absolute depth of despair, as I continued to spin in and out of freefall as if I was piloting a Spitfire that’d been shot down in the midst of a dogfight and was only beginning to understand my own existentialist nature as well as the reasons I had brought that nature into being, so I really didn’t need any more bullshit weighing me down because my life felt as if it was already in a state of complete disrepair and those memories were the last thing I needed right now. Period.

The problem was, as those memories began to surface, they also brought with them a whole slew of feelings about myself that I now understood in retrospect, had been the catalyst for a lot of the falls I had taken, for the knocks I had received and more than likely why, I had trouble dealing with my own sensitive nature and had chosen to hide the way I was hiding.

So looking back now in hindsight, back to when I was thirty-three, then back further to when I was a child, I now realized that I had been trying to build a life for myself on foundations that I was never able to form and only by going back into my past, would I be able to cement those foundations back in place by addressing that which had never been addressed so my life was something I could live as if my life was a now conscious choice.

Freedom from within,

The Journeyman.

www.thejourneyman.com