I only realized the mistake I had made when faced with it once more, after so long. I had tried not to think about it, to hide the thoughts and lock them in an attempt of moving forward, but that failed. I was confronted by it, by the consequences of my mistakes, and it was then when I realized
I was the problem.

I never tried to solve all of this, I ran away from the regrets and blame I still held, and it placed immense pressure on my shoulders. It was slowing me down.

Fleeing wasn't an option, it was bound to me in such a way it initially took my likeness as its form. It was my magic now, and I couldn't just get rid of it.
Now face to face with it, with the magic I once took and made my own, I came to the realization that we weren't too different, we were both scared.

Thinking about the past was terrifying, it brought back the horrible memories and decisions I took in a time of pain and desperation, but running away was only worsening the situation. Without a conclusion, it would be left as an open wound of mine, that would slowly grow bigger until it was too painful to ignore anymore. But I didn't have to flee, I needed to accept it.

A part of me I wasn't proud of, but a part of me nonetheless, only by accepting it, by being able to look at it without regret in my eyes, I could finally be free from the weight it pressed me down with. I could look at it and say:

That's not me anymore.