Nostalgia is a mistress one can’t help but fall in love with. And once that happens one is eternally doomed. Falling in love with misery never does anyone any good.
But i’ve found nostalgia to be different. It has that amazing power of lifting me up when i’m down and out, when I need it the most.
It can also bring me down and throw me heartlessly on the ground if I keep staring at it for too long.
But maybe being aware of something is different from actually admitting that thing exists. My past had everything in me that i need now.
And maybe i’m wrong, but i need to find that fire, that hope, that inspiration again.
I owe it to myself and my life that has become a lie.
I owe it to the person i was and the person i will be when i die.