Here's To The Past Memories are far too easily warped by the present, such as that we can trust no one, not even ourselves. Carefully turning through the dusty pages of a photo album never gave me the satisfaction I expected it to. Nostalgia made me ill. I grimaced at the trapped versions of my past selves, standing alongside many trapped versions of others. The snapshots provided a window to an event, a window where I could only hopelessly stare, fully aware of the outcome. However, there is also something comforting about the familiarity of the past. It's an escape from the present, a momentary gap in reality. Some photographs remind me of happier times, and I often find myself smiling, remembering how I felt in those moments. The happiness of nostalgia never lasts long though, and the emptiness that lingers afterwards is rarely worth the pleasure. I glance at all my old friends, stuck next to each other for eternity on dusty cream pages, and wonder if it was always destined to end like this. Maybe they're happier now. I hope so.