Everything I think about makes me feel like a version of myself

Where do you draw the line between the past and the present. Where is that point that everything prior is the past and stays in the past? And is it really fair for us to assume we have the right to control that. I mean, for a very long time I had this clear defining line between my past and everything that came after. My past was physically in another town. I ran from my past as fast as I could. My mom was the past. But I mean, as much as I put the past far behind me and didn't really think back on it much (well, except the mom thing) it didn't stay in the past. I assume that I was trying very hard to shove it into a deep dark corner with the cobwebs and the anger and the fear and the uncertainty. Yet, slowly, various aspects of that "past" crept back in. I became friends with Veronica after not speaking for 3 years, I hung out with Shannon after trying fairly hard to forget our little "adventures" in high school. (late nights at Rodeo, later nights at the beach, boyfriends, break ups, and generally falling apart together) I got a new school, a new house, a new persona... a new life. The pint I'm trying to make is, as hard as I tried to make a big, thick, permanent line between my past and my present, they kind of meshed together, and I'm okay.
But what about those things we're not ready to put in the past? Those things we over analyze and think about day in and day out and wonder if they'll ever just get up and drag themselves into the box marked "past", and you can clse the box and wrap it with lots of heavy duty packing tape.

...and ship it off to Ethiopia.
Except maybe that'd be too far away.
Maybe just Halifax.
Or across town.
Or next door.
Or safely in my closet with clothes that don't fit and photos that never found their way into an album.

See what I mean?
I feel like I'll never be ready to put you in the past.