It’s never too late to be what you might have been
and this is the end of who I was.
Walls crumble away and nothing remains,
of the prison built to capture the pain.
Hanging on tightly to what was long gone,
it took fifteen years to learn how
to let go,
to grow up,
to get up, and move on.

Luciana, 34
(George Elliot, 1819 – 1880)