It’s weird when I stumble upon an artifact which reminds me of a previous life. For instance, the watch I wear every day is a relic of the past, a gift from someone long out of my life. It’s not that it has any sentimental value remaining; it’s merely a very nice watch. When I think about it’s origin, I don’t get sad, or miss the past or the individual who gave me it, it just causes some uneasiness about my “past lives” so to speak. I find it strange thinking back to different places, circles of friends, relationships, and motivations that I thought would last a lifetime. I no longer see the past from my own eyes, but rather as if I’m watching a movie. While this would be fine on it’s own, the ghosts of overwhelming emotion I once had in each of these situations seems to contradict the faint movie-like reminiscence of logic, and this disparity puts me ill at ease. And all this at only 21 years of age. I can only imagine what it must be like for my venerable elders, those white haired (or bald) seniors who seem to have experienced everything, and then a little more. This fills me both with apprehension and excitement.