Rewriting History

Over the past few days, I've begun to notice that most of the memories I share with people are from childhood or undergrad. My time at the bank and the law firm are mostly summarized in the words, "I worked for three years and I hated my jobs." Good memories with Emily in DC and the Garbarini clan in Buffalo sort of fade into the background noise of those two soul-sucking jobs.

Now that I'm in a "happy place" again I don't really want to reminisce about the times when I was depressed and sometimes even angry. It's only been about seven weeks since I left that "other life," perhaps I'm still in some sort of detox phase. Anyway, how much can I say about being yelled at over the phone or making endless copies of nonsense? How much can I really say?
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