I don't remember a time that I didn't have some kind of demon in my past. At least one of you have always been there, festering away. Reminding me that I'd made some pretty bad mistakes throughout my life.
Reminding me that I'd never get rid of you completely. That I'd always be tainted. Telling me that I'd never be quite good enough for anyone because you'd always be hanging over me.
You were always making me doubt myself. I was always double checking myself and being cautious of those around me. I was convinced that if I did it once, I was bound to do it again.
I let you determine who I was as a person. I let you make me doubt myself. I let you, a demon of my past, determine my future.
But I was wrong. You don't define me. You've never defined me.
You may have had a hand in pushing me towards the person I am today, but you are not a part of me. You are a part of my past. You are a part of the person I once was, not the person I am now.
You have no hold over me unless I continue to give it to you. You have nothing to do with my life now, unless I invite you back in. And there's no way in hell I'll be doing that.
You are the past. I made a mistake, like all humans do and now I'll have to live with you. But I won't let you take over.
I won't sit back and become a slave to my past. I won't spend my life scared of what might happen if you decide to go out into the open. You don't own me... I own you.
I know I've created you with whatever poor choice you're attached to. I know that you will never go away. I know all of this, but guess what...
I don't care.
I'm the person that will not flinch if you go out into the open, because I have nothing to do with you. The girl I once was may have, but not I. I'm the person that will never be intimidated by your existence again.
I'm not affected by you anymore. I'm not the same person that created you. I'm the person that will move on with life as though you don't exist at all.
So shut up, sit down and make yourself comfortable in my past, because that's where you'll be staying.
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