The past...

When the past feeds so much on itself, why is it still the past?

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The past is his proverbial obsessee. Not all of the past; just a brief period of extreme unhappiness. His past hugs him like a warm comforter, protecting him from the icy winds of the present, just that the comforter isn't warm and the icy winds aren't cold. He lives in his own little freezer safely protected from the glorious monsoon sun - the one that peeks occasionally from behind the rich dark clouds.

And he tries to throw away the comforter that serves no purpose. But life has other plans.