/lit/ - Literature

Only now I start realizing the consequences of my acts. Only 2 or 3 years after. It's hard to accept they were the reason I'm like this, but that's the conclusion I've come to.
It's so rooted on my instincts and personality, I can't figure out how to at least remember how I was before that -years, after all, don't pass by as fast I think they do.
What did I feel? What were my reasons? Did I even need reasons? Was I happy? I only have sad memories (or at least, non-happy memories). Not because I didn't have happy moments, but because somehow I forget about them. It's like putting a teaspoon of a sugar that doesn't sweeten on hot water; a drop of transparent ink on a lake; killing an ant.
Whatever. I now can analyze a bit better my reactions. Still, why does my memory shun happiness?