Spectre of the Past

I know I've used this title for my sidebar...but it truly carries some meaning for me.

The past is funny. You want so vividly to remember some good thing, some redeeming factor (good or bad) that might validate the state you find yourself currently. The problem with this particular strategy is that you begin to twist the past into funny distorted versions of what actually happened. It is no doubt my past is subject to my bias. I simply refuse to admit there is no limit to my ability to twist it. I've been sifting through hundreds of pages I've saved from the last four years and I've discovered a vicious truth: the past will always change you. Every time you look back at it a little piece of you changes. With every AIM conversation I've saved, with every frantically scribbled page your perception changes from one of calm composed reflectance to truly regretful determination. The table turns now. I search desperately for a clue that I'm not the person that wrote those scribbled letters. That man who tried so hard to make the people he cared for understand that things weren't as simple as they appeared. Every solemn accusation and every word of hurt rings true as it ever did. If your not careful those words will drag you right back to the very time they were written. Those blurring moments when you walked out of an exam you know bent you over the table or even those sweaty palms that were left tightly gripping the pillow that was just thrown at you in contemptuous disgust.

Quite simply, if you get lost in the moments you can't do anything about then you've doomed any hope of a future where those moments aren't created. The past will change you. Every time you look back at it. Flowery moments of fleeting grace. Every blistering regret must be dealt with and sent away. Don't fear your past. It's the easiest way to drive over the same cliff you just spent the last 4 years climbing out of.

Personally, I'd rather only find out what my body does when I reach the bottom once.
So, I toss the papers that only feed the fuel of my despondence and learn from every puff of smoke as they waft away. The lessons are what you must carry.