Every day, I seem to return to the past, to the time that has been. The time that will never return, no matter how long I think about it.
Why do I do this?
Is it because the present and the future seems scary or less promising than the happy days of old times long gone? Probably.
Yet, I know that getting stuck in trying to stay in the past is a sure way to destruction. The logical, sensible part of my mind tells me this but I decide to ignore it, time and time again. Instead, I listen to the call of the memories and follow them back to the times when life was so much better than it will ever be again. Or so I keep telling myself while I walk down memory lane and look into the same old windows, at the same old comfy scenes of happiness, peace, security and love.
Sure, this is a very powerful torture of the soul at the same time as it brings some escape from the worries of the present and the uncertainty of what will be tomorrow or next week or next year.
Almost anything can trigger my escape to the past: some scent, a sound, an image, a film, a melody, some lyrics, voices, a comic strip, a taste….the list is endless. Maybe it all has to do with me having too much time to think?
If I kept myself more busy doing stuff, I wouldn’t have time to long for the past. Not that I don’t try to keep busy, thoughts of the past invade my mind at any time anyway. There’s no escape from escapism. Or so it seems.