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How would I know? I'm a survivor, remember?

Because, on that, I could write books. I have been told to get on and do it.

I have been a prisoner of "it's not as bad as it seems" for eight years. Longer, even.

And it nearly killed me twice. You do know.

As much as I suffer now, it's nothing compared to that horror.

There were good moments, and those were traps into further living the nightmare.

As much as the present is preached, it all comes down to choosing a future.

Because it will be the present.

And then the past. More memories.

Will they be ballast, or will it be a shelter in harder times?

Only you can know.