The weight of my past

The weight of my past, X says. Can’t you feel it? It’s awful! There’s nothing but regrets, he says. And yet what is it, my past? Nothing, he says. Nothing but the regretful stories I tell you, which you don’t listen to anyway. Nothing but what is undone by my regrets. It’s weightless, he says, but it weighs on me, you have no idea how it weighs on me! If only I could go back to before I came here, before I started to regret, before my past gained this weightless weight! Tell me how to go back so I can plan my retreat, he says. But you won’t, he says, of course you won’t.