  The past is not always a pretty thing, and it's something many of us prefer to keep hidden. The skeletons in the closet wouldn't be so bad if they didn't talk.
I was reminded of this today, when asked about the activities of that other kid, the other Tanner Wade Waldo who existed a little over a year ago. He was the one who drank until nothing hurt anymore, and he was the one who aquired a reputation as somewhat of a player, a slut, a man-whore. I don't believe there is any basis for such talk against me, though I do understand there the mis-understanding could occur.
Luckily, I killed him off before the trend continued. Now, I'm not sure what she thinks, because I know what I would be thinking if I was in her situation, and that's not what I want her to think at all. I almost feel terrible for what is developing between us, because she deserves a thousand times better than the view I have in the rear view mirror.
The decisions I've made have been killing me since the day they occured, and they are killing me now. We've all wished for a giant eraser, just to clear the slate, start over at square one, and have the change to make the same mistakes over again. Or different mistakes. I don't know where I was going with this. So I'm going to go to bed. 
