Facebook sometimes brings you face to face with the odd unsolicited stroll down memory lane. "Memory", perhaps, isn't the right word when you observe images of the present that you have no part of, that you have never lived. But somehow, they still succeed in invoking yesterday's ghost, which has the nasty habit of settling somewhere between my lungs and judging me. Unintentional memento mori conjuring the what-ifs, the what-was and (most poignantly) the whys. At what point did I leave and cease to be here/there? My 14-year-old self looks up and forward onto a different path and grafts herself onto the screen: a wedding photo here, a group shot there... She looks back at me now, is startled, and as most 14-year-olds, she judges me for what I've become.

No she can't understand, and neither can I. I guess I envy a sense of perceived security i see in what I  left behind/was taken from me. But I mostly don't understand why I still give a damn.