I never used to look back, to wonder or care about how I could have done things differently. Maybe it’s part of getting older, but I’ve started having those thoughts more often.
I started listening to a new book recently, ‘Replay’, about a man who dies, and wakes up 25 years in the past, in his own 18 year old body, but with all his memories of the next decades intact.
I read a similar story, a couple years ago, ‘The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August’, but this one, ‘Replay’, was written about 20 years earlier. And, Harry August annoyed me so much that I hope this one can make better use of such a cool concept.
Listening to it has been making me think about my life at 18, and all the missed opportunities, all the wasted energy and unused potential.
These are useless thoughts though, and can lead nowhere but depression. Forward is the only direction we can ever go, so it is the direction we should look.
When I look at the stories I wrote in the past, I don’t wish I’d written them better or different. I just write new ones now. That’s the way to be, in life and in work.
It sure is hard sometimes, though, to avoid the trap of nostalgia and the dreams of the past.