Have I found you?

I'm such a screw-up. I feel like I've moved on, and I KNOW I have, but the pain I feel when I look back at old pictures and conversations is UNBELIEVABLY EXCRUCIATING. I could hold my hand to my chest, clutching my shirt into wrinkly folds and screaming in agony, just wishing I could forget, but nothing ever works. It's like my heart was once a healthy engine screwed safely into the cavity of my chest, but as the carefree days of last year evolved into life now, the nuts and bolts that had held me together decided to abandon me. It's the simplest moments like these when I feel helpless, like there's not a chance I can be truly fixed. The engine that kept me running broke down, time and time again, leaving me a useless mechanical object to be what - shipped to China and RECYCLED?!?!

Let's start over. Buy some new screws from the hardware store, get me the engine in a Ferrari, and squirt a little oil here and there, and I'm brand new.