Tiptoeing Across A Minefield

It has been suggested that I go back into therapy.

But there is always danger in peering into the past. It is like tiptoeing across a minefield, seeking out traumatic memories, leaping over the cracks in the landscape. It is like a room, pure and pristine but if you look too carefully with a harsh and unforgiving eye you would see the cobwebs in the corners, the layer of dust on the bureau, the cat hairs littering the carpet. Lift your head, sniff the air and that scent of apple blossom inevitably degenerates into the sickly-sweet stench of decay.


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