The past doesn’t die, and even if it does it has a perverse ability to resurrect itself just when you are down. The past doesn’t die, it dictates your present and influences how you react to a situation or  more importantly deal with people. Possessiveness stems from how much you care but it also comes from a sense of insecurity born of loss suffered in childhood, loss after seemingly unshakeable conviction of something being only yours, something you believed unquestionably like the sun rising from the east daily. The past doesn’t stay dead, it just mutates into and to your present and future so where, if ever, does it all stop?