When I was a child, I was certain that when I grew older I wouldn’t change my views in the world.
Of course it didn’t happen like that, and actually developing my own way to see the world according to my new experiences has always been one of my main focuses in life.
You would imagine that those memories and experiences then have marked a reasonably relevant footprint and, if anything, that I have learned from them.
However what at a given time looks like everlasting pain, is difficult to recall exactly. Who would want to? Your memory refuses to accurately record trauma. It’s a self defense mechanism, to avoid permanent damage.
This is why, every time I sink to the bottom, it’s not until I’ve hit bedrock that I realise what happened. Before getting to the bottom it’s all wondering and mental replay. Torture, really. Unavoidable, craved torture.
On the other hand, once you are deep down in the seabed of your shivers, the only thing left to do is propelling yourself back to the surface.