self: I'm surprised you haven't chucked that thing into the river or a lake or something.
me: Don't think that I haven't considered it. I never could figure out why I started carrying it in the first place. I told people that it was a reminder to not wear my heart on my sleeve, but that was never truly the case. Sentimentality, maybe? Safe keeping? Sometimes I behave impulsively. It's a curse.
self: Mmmhmm. Are you sure it's not a case of wishful thinking?
me: If wishes were fishes...
self: Shut up with that crap and answer the question.
me: I honestly don't know. The past is the past. To look upon it and wish for it to rise again is one of the most foolish things a person can do.
self: God knows you aren't one for foolish behavior.
me: Blah blah blah.
self: Besides, I don't know what's so wrong about looking back fondly on your past. Just because you're unhappy now doesn't mean you can't look back on what's gone before and feel a pang of sorrow for those times having ended. The problem is when you go about resurrecting the past. Some relationships can pick back up where they left off. Others can begin anew. Most should be left buried in a shallow grave under a pile of hastily spread dirt.
me: The problem is looking back and seeing what I did wrong that I could have avoided if I didn't act rashly or if only I had acted rashly or if or if or if.
self: Bah. You always focus on those damn ifs. Can't you just believe that things happen for a reason?
me: No. Believing that things happen for a reason takes away all that makes life worth living. It implies that all time is decided and that it doesn't matter what I do because time has intended for me to be shat upon year after year. At least free will lets me place the blame solely where it belongs.
self: On yourself?
me: Pfft, on everyone else. Why would I blame myself?
self: Sarcasm only fits one of us, and I'm the one wearing the funny-pants. I think you should refrain.
me: So I should toss it in a lake?
self: No. You should hold on to it as a reminder of love gone past. Maybe one day it'll mean something more, but at least for now it can serve as a reminder of the past.
me: Do you think that it wou-
self: -maybe you'll find out one day. Just don't sit around waiting for a chance to find out. And for god's sake, don't talk about it. You'll jinx it or something.
I did not miss working at the MS Society these last two weeks. Blech.