7 Years

They say every cell in your body is replaced every seven years. If that is true then the person sitting here typing this post has not a single cell in common with the being that claimed to be me 7 years ago. The only proof I have that I was him is that there is psychological continuity between him and me. That said, there are still a number of worrying discrepancies between the two of us. For instance, when I was 17 (it was a very good year) I would not take headache painkillers for love nor money. My head would have to be almost literally exploding before I would go anywhere near them. These days, I take painkillers if I feel a headache even thinking about coming on - as I have at this moment.

The strangest thing is that as I sit here now, tinkering around in the dusty attic that is my memory, I cannot for the life of me remember what it felt like to be so radically opposed to painkillers. Why would I have eschewed them so vehemently? It's as though the Kim of twenty years ago was in fact another person, who is now dead, and the only memories I have of him are vague snapshots of moments from his life - some significant, some not.

This gives me cause to wonder: what other traits from my past have I forgotten about? What likes and dislikes have been lost to the mists of time? Am I a better person or worse? Or does it simply not matter? These things would keep me awake at night if I let them, or at least they used to...I think.