The past...
The other day, at my work, I came face to face with someone who was the spitting image of an old boyfriend. Bleached hair was the only thing different about him.
I couldn’t be sure it was him. He moved away five years ago and he would have no reason to come back here.
But when I saw this guy, I felt…nothing.
Nothing at all.
I feel like the past is coming back to haunt me.
So today, I opened up a padlocked box full of diaries, letters and mementoes from the last eleven years. I don’t often look in that box.
I had written in my diary a fair bit about this guy, and according to these entries, I loved him a lot.
How can it be that I don’t remember just how much?
Do you just let go of the past and forget the ones you cared about?
And how come I’m not the same person I used to be years ago?
I feel like I’m older than I should be.
I’ve lost something.
