The hardest thing you could ever do in a relationship is to accept that person’s past. I should be the last person to complain about this because my previous lives are cluttered up and stuffed with numerous skeletons, and the least I could do for a person is to be thankful that whoever he is has learned to accept me, despite all the mistakes that have marked me for life. But hell! I can’t stand pasts!
Allow me to be selfish.
I can’t say the same for everyone – I wouldn’t know. It will definitely sound cheeky and stupid but for my own peace of mind, I’d like to think that I am the best thing that’s ever happened to a person’s life, specifically if that person has become a significant part of me. (Haha. Laugh all you want.) And the thing is, upon learning that there have been equally significant things – and people – that have come along in the not-so-distant past – BEFORE I HAPPENED, well. It just spoils my day.
My day has been spoilt today, ask no questions. No matter how I’m going to deal with this tomorrow (in the most mature manner I could muster), let me just express my deepest disgust at myself for feeling this way. I’d like to see it as immature, selfish and unfair, but waking those memories that weren’t mine to begin with makes me sorry that I ever did. I wish I hadn’t known. Damage done, no turning back, sure, yeah. And there’s really no one to blame but myself. I can’t really blame anyone for experiencing the best times of their lives without me, right? So why do I feel so insecure?
