I hear a knock at the door.
"It's open!" I shout.
The past walks in and sits across from me.
"It's been a while, how have you been?" I ask.
"Oh, same old, same old. Nothing has changed." replies the past as it stretches it's legs.
"What's new with you?" queries the past.
"I've moved on" I respond confidently.
"Oh Ho hooo!" laughs the past.
"I've heard this story before."
"I have," I defensively interject, "it's a new place with different people. I'll be happy again."
"Same story, different place! I've said it before and I'll say it again; you can't live in the past while writing the future. It's finished. Don't compare then and now. The future is unwritten for a reason, so you can tell a new story," responds the past.
"Okay okay, I'll write something new." I sigh in reply.
"Just remember, a good story doesn't happen overnight. It takes time and patience!
Enjoy the time now and write for the future, you will be rewarded," says the past in a voice that speaks with wisdom only age can obtain.
"It's time for me to go again."
And with that the past walks through the revolving door and it slowly comes to a stop.