Original Prose: "Present Imperfect Tense", by bonzopoe

I live in an imperfect present tense, because it is a present invaded by pasts and promises of futures that I ignore more and more, and value less. And it's not that I don't care about the future, it's that there's no point in worrying about it if it's inevitable and it's going to come anyway. Whether you like it or not, days, weeks, months, years, and maybe even lifetimes will go by without you being able to do anything about it.

But the past is different, it lives in us, it is in our DNA, in every cell of our body. We are a time machine and we don't realize it. We live trapped in an ephemeral present, in a past future that we consume and consume us hopelessly. We are a present built from the past, and our future is nothing more than the natural consequence of what we do with what we were.

The past is the perfect time because it is what creates us, what builds us. That is why it is so difficult for some to escape from it, and sadly so easy for others to forget, because it is so present in us that many times we do not realize it. How to ask the drop if it knows the water if it is made of it?

Over time I have learned to enjoy the present and to see the past in it. In every corner, behind every moment, thousands of stories corresponding to what has been lived before are hidden. For example, the table I am writing this on is not just a table. It is all the memories of my meals in it, of all my talks in it as a stage, even of all the tears, my sleeplessness and coitus in it. It is as much the memory of the warmth of a skin, as that of a cup of coffee in winter, or a soup when sick, or a letter turning to ashes.

I have learned to see my story written everywhere, the past hidden behind the present, building it in the background, behind the scenes. And despite the sorrows that have wrought me, I appreciate my past as I appreciate my eyes, my arms and my legs, because without it I am not, I do not exist, it is as much a part of me as the fingers with which I write this.

I have learned to resignify my environment through the past, and in that sense I reassess it all the time, and I try to live it fully in a present that I now see as an eternal scene, always in transit, of which I am the irremediable protagonist, but of which I can also be public and stagehand.

I live happily surrounded by memories while I build others, while I put the next bricks in this wall that is my life. And these memories that accompany me take care of me. They comfort me and alert me, they tell me what I was and what I am, and in their imperfect way they always guide me in this adventure that is living.

Thank you very much for reading this post and dedicating a moment of your time. Until next time and remember to leave a comment.