The past doesn't exist

Yesterday I posted this photo and said I was trying to live by it. Today, at therapy, my psychologist told me that the past doesn't exist anymore. When I talked about my fear of repeating mistakes I made in 2003, he said, "It's not 2003. 2003 doesn't exist anymore." He went on to explain that it is our memories that steer us, not the actual events. He touched my hand and said, "Is this the same hand you were born with?" I said that it was, but he said it wasn't. Neither was the hair on my head the same. We rejuvenate every part of us. I am not the same as I was in 2003. That person doesn't exist. The rape doesn't exist anymore. The person who was raped doesn't exist anymore. Twenty years ago is gone, it doesn't exist. Two weeks ago is gone. It's a bit much to grasp, as I am always looking back and love the idea of time travel.

That made me think of the Stephen King movie/film, The Langoliers. These creatures eat up time, so the past no longer exists. This one of the first things Ronan and I talked about during our marathon conversation, as I mentioned my trip to Bangor, Maine and he said he had a layover there before. I mentioned that Langoliers was filled at that airport, and he was surprised that I knew that and even knew of that book/film and said we must be the only two people to know that.

But that conversation no longer exists. It really doesn't. Because I thought moving to Derry was going to be the way Ronan and I were together. However, he said that he is happy with his life the way it is now and doesn't want to upset that balance. Our relationship doesn't exist anymore. It hasn't for quite a long time.