Escaping your past is the mother of all detoxes. To erase 30 years of your life when it is the foundation of your being is like cutting the legs off of the beast. Your life is a culmination of your memories and you cannot wipe out the hard drive no matter how much you want to rid yourself of the virus. You can avoid opening the files but they are there.
The idle moments of life open up those files showing you what you saved and reminding you that at one time this was your life. Most choose to keep them and others try to permanently delete them. You’ll always be a prisoner of your past to some degree. Deleting is a painful chore, so painful that most choose to live with the virus.
If I ever come across a happy life I’ll ruin it by resenting the road that brought me there. I’ll view happiness as too little too late. I’ll resent that many people lived a life from birth mostly unscathed from the tragedies that only bad luck could have cast upon them. Jealous of their obliviousness of what a struggle life can be. Happiness in the last half of your life is like the crumbs one throws you once they have had their fill. It seems silly to struggle through life just to die and be forgotten.