how i gave up on "concrete angels"

The other day,I went to the library,I've always loved it there. It is so quiet in there.The loudest noises in the place are the tapping of the laptop keys and the rustle of someone turning newspaper pages.For a moment there,I looked like a dumbfounded person,sitting at the last table ,just staring at other people.And I saw this one person,who I recognize back in my school days. He looked the same,except,he aged. He was sitting just opposite me,however,the distance between us couldn't possibly allow me to hear his voice if we were to speak to each other. It was queer. He was stiff like a marble statue,with bloodshot eyes and had a glazed look. Under the best of circumstances,people might keep their distance from him,because he was sitting alone and he had the "don't go near me" look on his face.Why was he there,in a library.And I figured,he was just searching for a hideout,a quiet place,away from everyone.When I looked at him,I could see those unseeing eyes.An impact which felt like a blow,an utterly unforeseen thought jolted me.I know him.It reminded me so vividly of someone that he might have been that person.No one I knew was anything like the damaged character sitting there.I could hear myself said,no one? Think again,lydiana . Deep in my chest,something I had been ignoring and thrusting out of view for years now,has awakened. My first response was to turn away ,and I did turn away,with as much energy as I could summon. The memory that came back clung to me.Why did I care about what happened to him,anyhow? I found myself a new table at the corner,so that I could no longer see him.Was really hoping the day's work could go well.Atop the oversized table,which was occupied only by me,a folder bulging with notes,outlines and ideas of chapters sat beside my laptop.Work,unfortunately,was of no use at all.I had been planning to get a jump start on the last chapter,but ignoring it later because of the total lameness of the title,but that's not entirely the reason why I chose to give it up.The efforts I put into for months which looked so promising ,was nothing but ashes .I spent most of my time,re-writing about my past,the whole idea of the story was about my past. And I came to a point where,I finally learnt that clinging to the past will never push me forward. When I drove back home that day,at the back of my mind was a matter I did not actually want to think about that day.I was thinking about that young man who sat across me ,with blank stares .It wasn't his fault to magically showed up in front of me,he just happened to be there . This whole thing of seeing people from the past that you wished you never meet again and you started getting all those nostalgic shit, cumbersome don't you think?Same thing goes to writing about all those shit in the past.I stopped right there,God knows how bad I wanted to finish the last chapter,but I stopped right there. 

I went out that night for a drink and a few packs and I didn't gave the slightest care after that day.
The future is much more promising,not the past,no, not anymore .