There is something inside of me that refuses to look into the past, a roadblock that obscures even my rear view mirrors. A sort of suffocation, a rising tide of humiliation is the simple result of taking my eyes off the goal, off the butterfly floating just a bit farther, just a little farther ahead. Keep charging forward, Blessed Ignorance whispers. Let your past rest in a cushioned drawer. Build a monument for your memories and bury them underneath. A tombstone. Rest in peace, because ghosts are figments of your imagination. Ghosts are only real if you believe in them. Keep walking towards the light, because then you'll never have to see the long shadow that stretches behind you. So whispers Ignorance. So whispers the harbinger of Bliss.
         

There is something inside of me that believes if you shine brightly enough, the shadows will disappear. Well, it hasn't failed yet. My life is sunlight, and the only place that sunlight can't reach is inside the cracks that line the sidewalks. Any darkness I meet quickly falls behind because it cannot bear the brightness it meets here. Graveyards are peaceful in the sunlight. But I only admire them from a distance; we only beautify hardship that lies behind us. No one ever stays long in a graveyard.
         

Ghosts are only real if you look at them. My ghosts float behind me and are losing hope of being recognized. My future lies ahead of me, bright butterfly in the sun. I do not see the ghosts. I do not see the cracks in the sidewalks. I do not revisit my stories, do not reread my words. My butterfly will guide me. Bright butterfly, Blessed Ignorance. Bliss.