The past is not our destination, nor our only course; it is just the tide that brought us to this shore. Though we are born of its depths, the horizon we sail toward is ours to command.
I am a work in progress, etched with flaws I have chosen to mend. For those who believe themselves already finished—a picture painted in 'perfection'—where does the next brushstroke go? You cannot heal a heart you believe is already whole.