I don't know if you've ever found yourself to be in the position of *that kid* that finds themselves uncerimoniously uprooted from their lives one day, through whatever circumstance. Through whatever crisis that excised itself through your days, you constantly look back at the *before*. Before x, y, z happened, I was ______. I was miserable, or happy, or knew where I belonged, or knew I would get through, or at least had an anchor that held me to the mooring of the tiny vessel that is wholly me. And then there is the x, y, z that bisects the you that you know. Maybe it's a death, or a birth, or a moving away, or a ... no, that's all there really is, isn't there? The death of one thing, or the birth of another, or a moving away in another direction entirely. Whatever the reason, you *do* look back.
