We might die from medication, but we sure killed all the pain
I've been thinking alot lately about the idea of moving on from the past. In what seems to be the pattern for all things in life, we get conflicting and contrasting signals. Love what you had, but leave it behind. Let go of the past, but never forget. It's the same problem we have when someone dies because the past is just the collective death of an infinite number of moments.
You can never capture a moment. A picture can give a glimpse into a moment, but that picture can never describe the total feel of that moment, that point in time. You can never truly relive the past. It's gone, it's vanished, and yet the effects still linger.
What does that mean? I'm not sure. I've been doing alot of thinking about the past: about Amanda, about Nicole, about Emma, about anyone I generally ever cared for or said I loved. (Yes, I am a hopeless romantic.) And I once thought to myself, God, how I would trade a thousand happinesses of tomorrow for the love I shared then. How I would give away every new hope for that glimmer of old magic, of lost beauty, of that particular moment of time.
Then I opened my eyes to the future by closing them to the past.
If the past is the collective death of infinite moments, then the future is the collective bearing of infinitely more moments. And the present bears a new moment over and over again, soon to die but always existing somehow. 'Cause in all reality we never lose the past. Science tells us that nothing can ever truly be destroyed(thank you Mr. Bowers and 7th period chemistry last year). It can never be created either; it just is. You can't make a moment; it just is and you are in it.
Love your past, for better or worse. Your past is your present, your present is your future, but your past can never be your future.
You can never capture a moment. A picture can give a glimpse into a moment, but that picture can never describe the total feel of that moment, that point in time. You can never truly relive the past. It's gone, it's vanished, and yet the effects still linger.
What does that mean? I'm not sure. I've been doing alot of thinking about the past: about Amanda, about Nicole, about Emma, about anyone I generally ever cared for or said I loved. (Yes, I am a hopeless romantic.) And I once thought to myself, God, how I would trade a thousand happinesses of tomorrow for the love I shared then. How I would give away every new hope for that glimmer of old magic, of lost beauty, of that particular moment of time.
Then I opened my eyes to the future by closing them to the past.
If the past is the collective death of infinite moments, then the future is the collective bearing of infinitely more moments. And the present bears a new moment over and over again, soon to die but always existing somehow. 'Cause in all reality we never lose the past. Science tells us that nothing can ever truly be destroyed(thank you Mr. Bowers and 7th period chemistry last year). It can never be created either; it just is. You can't make a moment; it just is and you are in it.
Love your past, for better or worse. Your past is your present, your present is your future, but your past can never be your future.