I dwell in the past so often.
My own history is unique and comforting, and I just simply cannot help myself.
I grow so fast and nostalgia chases me, an emotional glimpse at what once was, at life before now.
My thoughts greet me with tranquility upon the memory of the child I used to be.
The warm taste of a savory homemade dish I once loved.
The soft, luscious feel of a plush puppy I once held so tight.
I will forever let my heart be engulfed in the feeling of love and light.
The sentiment wraps me up in comfort, but it also carries a whisper of dread.
The sounds of seagulls at a beach I once visited so often with distant family.
The smell of artificial plastic, much like the toys I once relied on to keep me company.
Nostalgia has become something so utterly bittersweet to me.
I have become nostalgic for life experiences that happened not too long ago.
It is one thing to have a happy memory, but it is another to yearn for that whole-hearted feeling once more.
What do we call the opposite of this feeling? Anticipation, perhaps.
Romanticize the moment, so you can look back and be embraced.
