same old things

The parallels are so striking. Almost creepy.

It's just like that time, the way it snuck up on you like that - caught you so off guard that by the time you noticed, it was too late. But without the snow. Or the skates.

Same feeling, different time, different place, different people. Kundera says that the gestures we use are far more unique than we are - the same could be said for our thoughts and emotions as well. We are merely their bearers, their incarnations.

I don't own emotion - I rent.

Same feeling, different time, different place, different people. But I'm better this time. I won't screw it up.

Not as badly.

This is how it works: you repeat the same mistakes over and over again and just hope that you'll get a little better each time. Then one day, when the little betters add up to good enough, you can start to break the pattern.

Or you get so good at repeating the pattern so perfectly that you don't notice the difference anymore.