Dying every day

If we are the sum of our experiences, then the person I am now is different to the person I was yesterday.

I can look back, day by day, to when I began this process of remembering, like a clock winding backwards.

Further back, the dates are more likely to be blank than filled with memories.

But I see myself growing younger, becoming a child. My loved ones rejuvenating.

Those days are gone. Those people changed.

Every day I die and become a new person in adding a layer of experience.

Older and, if I learn from my mistakes, perhaps wiser.