How would you compile a life without things that are no longer there? Thats the terrible circumstance, isnt it? You cant seem to have much appreciation of anything without the weight of things that you will never have again. I guess thats the measure of a “life”.
What about the minds painstaking inability to move from certain moments. If there is nothing else that can be done with a memory, wouldnt the proper thing be to get rid of it? Wouldnt that be evolution or neuroplaticisity? It seems like I’ve done every single thing there is to do with the past at least a thousand times. I’ve re-lived every circumstance until its hardly even possible to distinguish the reality of certain ones anymore. Ah, an entire life lived in hindsight. What a travesty. The lack of a clear line between the past and the future.
Nostalgia: Is that supposed to us make feel alive, or feel that we’ve already lived?

Is a life just a harrowing collection of all the things that we once had, Or is it the few things that still somehow remain? The things that get stuck to our clothes and shoes as we walk through this world. All the things we cant shake. The pollen of lost loves. The dirt and soot of sickness, defeat and embarrassment. The dead leaves of wild nights where we laughed til we puked.

At times I wish I could bury the entire world like a mangy mutt buries bones in the back yard and return to it when I am good and ready.