maybe one of the reasons that justify my excessive need for nostalgia is that I can't stop romanticizing the past. I remember how it felt good to be in love on a sunny afternoon, wandering around town, singing songs and smiling at trees. Now, for most of the time, I hate having to be here. I feel like I'm this eternally distorted standstill, who speaks of the past with shining eyes. And when I stop and think about it, I realize there are a lot of things I used to be familiar with. They're either feelings I gave up on or places that I don't remember how to go anymore. I've come to the terrifying sense that, throughout the years, I kept losing pieces on the ways I chose to take. And when I realized they were all gone, I was already too far away from where they were lost. The only solution I found was to fill these empty spaces left by them with cement, taking a deep breath and try to let that awful feeling go. Will I ever stop working on it?
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