Memoires on the Trail of Life

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Nico and Christopher on summer vacation in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. July 26, 2025.

August 21, 2025


As I grow older, hopefully wiser, I can't help but notice the memories of life I leave behind—some fade quietly, while others, vivid and stubborn, stick with me for life. The good ones I hold close, but those intrusive, unwanted thoughts creep in, stirring guilt long past its prime, pointless yet persistent in nagging at my peace. I'm working to bury them under happier moments, reminding myself I'm a good person, even when negative thoughts try to drown that out. 

The pile of memories in my head's landfill grows higher like refuse at a landfill, a testament to moments I can't fully shake, no matter how hard I try to leave them on life's trail. Broken dreams, sadness, and guilt linger—not just forgotten but buried deep, waiting for a dark moment to resurface and knock me off balance. It's crazy how something from years ago can still hit like a fresh wound. Those bags are a heavy burden. 

Those heavy bags? That's regret—words I regret, actions I wish I'd taken or avoided, hurts I caused or left unresolved. Maybe it's not just junk thoughts but trauma I never dealt with, from a time when society shrugged at mental health, telling me, "Men don't cry, just deal with it." 

That tough-guy crap got drilled into me, and yeah, I can be cold sometimes, not big on sympathy for folks who whine instead of doing what needs doing. I get up, work, handle my business, and repeat, because I have to, not because I want to. That mindset shaped me, sometimes made me cold, but I've grown to see that not everyone's built the same. My travels through life have brought me wisdom and the ability to listen to others before I speak. That old me is shedding like a bird molting on a steamy August day. That tough guy act doesn't impress anyone anymore. My clarity cleanses me.  

My mind shouldn't be weighed down by regret and guilt, but there are times—they're the toughest to let go. Some guilt I pile on myself; some I let others dump on me. Other thoughts are simply intrusive from being hard on myself if I fail to accomplish something I truly wanted.

Still, I'm learning I don't have to carry it forever. I'll keep walking, shedding those bags one by one, choosing to fill my mind with the good. 

I'm done letting them weigh me down, though—I'm choosing to drop that baggage on my journey and pack my head with the good stuff. The road ahead is mine to walk, and I'll make sure my journey on the trail of life is lighter, freer, stronger.


443 words 



Blake, Max, and Mom in the foreground on a family vacation in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, July 26, 2025. 
 

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