It might seem melodramatic of me to say, but it’s true: I’m unable to move on from anything that’s ever happened to me. If that makes me nostalgic or overly emotional I’m unsure, and I’m still figuring out if I like my box — no — boxes of memories that stay with me at all times.

David Foster Wallace perfectly encapsulates my philosophy of thinking: “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

I still think of exes when I hear the songs we used to play together, I still reminisce on memories from my adolescence and I’ve kept nearly every letter I’ve ever been gifted (and reread them frequently). When did everyone grow up and leave their memories with their childhood? And why is it so hard for me to let them go?

I’ve never dealt with change gracefully. I cried when I had to throw away my old phone. I hate buying new shoes. My utopia is everything forever the same — essentially, I would like to live in The Truman Show. No anticipation of change, no anxiety, no heartbreak; just me and my perfectly calculated day to day life. Instead, I am met with a whirlwind of constant change that leaves me in distress, and my love and friendships sprawled around me like a tornado ran through me.

Though change is a part of human nature, I can’t help but resent it. If it’s guaranteed that change is inevitable, that everything we love and cherish will eventually wash away with the tide, why should I invest in anything? Why should I enjoy this moment if it’s going to end?

Knowing that everything, and I mean everything, has an expiration date inevitably makes it harder for me to enjoy the moment. But alas, I know that life is not something to throw away and debate the significance of, so I still love fully and presently, hoping that the memories that surround me will keep me warm enough.

I’m aware of my pessimistic tone towards life and change, but beneath my indignation is sadness for everything I’ve ever lost. All the love, passion, laughs and kindness that precede me. Yes, they are safe in my mind and the thought of them can aid me in a time of distress, but that can only help so much. How much time spent thinking about the past is too much? Because I’m pretty certain I exceed the limit.

I appreciate every moment I spend with my loved ones — arguably too much — and often store those happy feelings safely away, easy to access. However, in the moment, when I’m on a roadtrip with someone I love and he’s kissing my cheek, why do I only focus on the moment’s temporality? Why must I self-sabotage and give myself the harsh reality check of impermanence, when I could instead embrace his affection and love him back?

The idea that one cannot stay in a moment for as long as they see fit makes me very uneasy. The fact that I must oblige to the clocks of time and fate, regardless of if they match with my schedule or not, can become very annoying — if not infuriating — at times. However, all the time I’ve wasted being mad at change has only allowed me to lose more time I could’ve spent living.

All the time I’ve spent overanalyzing past conversations, reminiscing on ‘what could have been,’ and dwelling in old moments of happiness have actually stopped me from enjoying the love right in front of me. When I notice myself doing this, I make myself dig my heels into the present and look back at the love staring at me.

Yes, I’m mad that I can’t stop time and keep everything exactly the same, but comfort can become debilitating. Change gives me a needed push into the unknown that has allowed me to meet my lifelong friends, experience love and live my days in the present.

My memories allow me to keep living, to keep exploring and to keep changing — even if it goes against my instincts.

I keep my past happiness, love and comfort with me at all times, looking for their replicas in each new person, experience and situation I find myself with. All of the change, hardships and memories I’ve been through are only preparing me for future love and abundance.

Kira Logan finds it impossible to write about anything other than love.