You remember everything, don't you? Yes, you do; don't turn away to hum another silly song under your breath, quit playing the carefree fool. The past is funny like that; you can't get it out of your head no matter how loud you scream.

And you will need to scream, especially when it sneaks up on you, gnashing its teeth and tugging on your hat, "Hey you! Look at me, feel me, listen to me!". And when you give in – because it's impossible not to – the screams of others flood your ears, your hands shake and your memory slips you its most terrifying visions, the kind that make you want to hide underground or claw your eyes out not to see.

It's around this time when you want to scream at the top of your lungs, "Get away from me!" but these emotions are too personal and there's no need to let them show. People would get curious, start asking questions and talking about it would mean needlessly stirring up dying embers, breathing new life into a scorching fire. So you have to keep it all inside.

Then again, even if you tried, it wouldn't listen, anyway. The past is a willful and cruel thing. Its shards never miss a chance to hurt you as much as possible, to keep reminding you that this was all your fault.

'Was', I said? No, it still 'is', isn't it? Everything that has happened so far, all of it down to the tiniest detail, is your fault. Yours and yours alone.

Everything that you've seen was done by your hand. How could such a small creature wreak such havoc? Well, this small creature was too preoccupied with itself and its own desires to notice how the world crumbled trying to cater to its whims.

This is exactly what the past reminds you of, doesn't it? This is what it keeps whispering in your ear, "Oh, what an awfully selfish person you've been!". This is exactly why you wander aimlessly around the universe, lending a hand whenever you can, a kind word here, a good deed there; brimming with positive energy and singing silly songs.

You can still fix it all if you really put your back into it. Right?