Saturday I spent few hours at my mother place in Łódź, in my old room, to order a little bit different things, get rid of some of them, decide what to do with other. I went through my old diaries, photos, letters, thousands of souvenirs. Very strange feeling. I’m generally the person, who almost never live in past. Even living in present is quite difficult for me, I tend to spend as much time as possible in future, planning, dreaming. I put a lot of effort last 1-2 years to be more now and here instead of being much ahead in time, but past… past was never really the topic of my concern. I’m able to say without any doubts what I will do next few months, day by day, but I have no idea what I did last weekend.
All in all, I kept quite a lot of those things from my past, even if I’m not sure I come back to them again. It’s like following life of some other person, it’s not me anymore, a lot of words in my diaries, letters are not even true right now. I don’t feel even I want to read them. They have some emotional value, so I keep them, but in a way I don’t want to discover what’s inside. Maybe it’s fear I’m not important anymore to people who wrote letters or gave me particular things? Probably that’s the biggest issue. What could be interesting is to discover what I dreamt about. Do I follow the same path? Now, when I’m writing about that I think I will come back to those things next time I’m in Łódź. Just to check before leaving how much today me is still the same person as I was years ago.