Don’t look back in anger.
Don’t look back in anger — A realization that occurs once one is old enough to realize that what you once called some of the worse moments of your life were actually pretty damn awesome.
All the times you got your heart broken; and, all of the lovers you used to complained about to your friends while imbibing your favorite “complaint inducing drug of choice” were actually some of the greatest people you ever met during the most amazing part of your life.
And actually, your heart wasn’t really even really broken yet. That only happens when facing old age, sickness, and death and watching your friends and frenemies drop like The Ten Little Indians in the now politically incorrect childhood song.
Everything that has come before was like stretching before a long run…
…which feels like a too short of a run when you get to this part of the road. Nostalgia isn’t remembering the past; it’s living in the present as an echo of who you once were.
And if you don’t know what I’m talking about; then don’t worry.
You will.
All the times you got your heart broken; and, all of the lovers you used to complained about to your friends while imbibing your favorite “complaint inducing drug of choice” were actually some of the greatest people you ever met during the most amazing part of your life.
And actually, your heart wasn’t really even really broken yet. That only happens when facing old age, sickness, and death and watching your friends and frenemies drop like The Ten Little Indians in the now politically incorrect childhood song.
Everything that has come before was like stretching before a long run…
…which feels like a too short of a run when you get to this part of the road. Nostalgia isn’t remembering the past; it’s living in the present as an echo of who you once were.
And if you don’t know what I’m talking about; then don’t worry.
You will.
Don’t look back in anger. There is something worse than a lover who drives you crazy; and that’s having no lover at all. There’s something worse than being catcalled on the street by construction workers; and that being invisible to the people who pass you by. It’s like the man who said: “I used to complain about my missing finger until I met a man who lost his hand.” I used to complain about my yesterdays until I started running out of tomorrows.