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|23rd Oct 2015, 10:23 PM||Forget the poppies #1|
Join Date: Sep 2013
Dimentica i papaveri - Forget the poppies
"Don't forswear your past, because one day it will return to you."
You cannot deny your past, because a day it will come knocking on your door, and you are what was your past. One of my college roommates told me this sentence before I left New York. As if our lives were simply the result of the experience we have lived, the environment in which we lived. And the will? We may live badly our past, but we can forget it once happened. We can bury it in the back of our mind; do not let it influence us for the rest of our lives.
One day you can play on a swing with a little girl who has just moved into your city. The next one you have a one-way ticket to New York.
Sometimes the past can hold happy moments. But the happy moments are like autumn leaves. They lose lymph slowly, and are tinged with warm colors. People observe them, and rejoice, because the autumn leaves are beautiful to see, but they don't imagine that what they are seeing is a dying being. The sap is disappearing, and the wind begins to blow. The leaf resists, and resists, and continues to resist. But in the end, the wind detaches them, and the leaves, dead, fall to the ground.
In the past, you can try to maneuver. You can dodge the obstacles, avoid the dangers, anesthetize your heart, and trying to stay in balance, hope for a better future.
Sometimes, after a long ordeal, you get it.
Most often, however, the future is as a cold dish you eat alone, and have to settle for what you had.
But you do not think about it. You've finished suffer. The past does not haunt you anymore. Past is past. Still you remember your childhood friends? Still remember the bullies who tormented you in high school? Still remember the tears of your mother when you took a bus to New York? Still remember the face of the only person who really understands you?
In those moments you deny everything. Your life is now almost happy. You no longer suffer, or at least, not like before. And yet ... something comes back, and painfully, you realize that your room's mate has always been right. There is no logic in forgetting. There is no gain in this suffering. The past comes knocking at your door, and then you have to ask yourself a question. Can you accept it, or its weight will crush you?