the-past

I miss it every minute, and I have no wish at all to go back.

My dear, you never will understand time, will you? You're always trying to be the things you were, instead of the person you are tonight. Why do you save those ticket stubs and theater programs? They'll only hurt you later. Throw them away, my dear.

I understand, Bill. Because I tell myself a lot of stories to help me sleep at night. Stories about how Babe was my dearest friend, and I never betrayed her. Stories about how you and I had a great love, not just an occasional roll in the hay whenever she was out of town. Stories about how wonderful life was back then, when none of us told each other the truth, but so what? It was all so beautiful, wasn__ it? It was all so lovely and gracious. Not like it is now.

The past is for learning from and letting go. You can't revisit it. It vanishes.

We long to have again the vanished past, in spite of all its pain.

We are always fascinated with the past, but the future is always brighter.

The past gave us experience and made us wiser so that we can create a beautiful and brighter future.

Our identities are tremendously warped and distorted by yesterday's trauma and tomorrow's expectations.

It is we who move through time, not the reverse. When we walk beyond any one of life__ instants, it becomes nothing more than a receding milestone. We can look back, but we cannot retrace our steps. The past remains stationary, while we are doomed to move ever onwards. To do otherwise is against nature.

Perhaps the echoes of people we once loved still linger in the places we frequented with them and that is why we go back_ Not so much to remember them as to feel them_

Weakness, like not being able to bury the past. Weakness, like not giving up hope when you know you should.

Guilt is an indulgence, it entangles you in the past.

Some people masturbate to temporarily replace their partners when they are absent, whereas some people do that to temporarily live in the present.

It didn__ hurt me. Not __urt_. Hurt is a four letter word. It__ short, almost cute sounding. Aawwww, did that hurt? No. It didn__ hurt. Destroyed, Obliterated, Desecrated, Annihilated, Demolished, Shattered, or Demoralised maybe_ But no. It didn__ hurt me. It didn__ __urt_ me at all.

I still think of you every day.But I__ trying not to let it hurt me with the same intensity that it used to.

For you are you, and I am I, and once we were we_ but as long as I exist and so do you _ know that I will always love you.

I had always wanted to hear those words.I had always wanted to be your girl.

It hurts that I was just one page in the book of your life_But what hurts more is knowing you__l revise that chapter someday_._.. and you__l erase me completely.