Remember playing with an Etch-a-Sketch when you were younger? You spent all that time turning just the right way, making just the right lines. But there always came a point where you made one mistake, and nothing could ever be made right after that.
So you shook that red rectangle upside down, flipped it back and smiled at the expanse of smooth grey. It was all yours again, a perfect canvas that would hold anything you wished to put on it. Any line you wanted to tattoo. Any life you wanted to build from scratch.
Each time, the picture turned out a little better. You learned your lesson with the last one. Each past mistake had been learned from and built upon.
Until you made one mistake.
My house burned down, and I lost everything again.
It feels better every time.