Nostalgia will be the death of me. It eats me up alive. I’ve just always been a memory type of person. Nostalgia is a beautifully misunderstood emotion. It often takes the form of unwanted tears, longing for a moment that was once your present, but being hit with the painful reality that it never will be again. A version of yourself you used to be, a person you used to know, a life you used to live.
It’s triggered by seemingly pointless moments that in any other life would have no significance, but in this one, it will forever have a place in my heart and mind. Feeling nostalgia reminds me that beneath the ache of wanting what’s gone, I have lived a life that’s worth remembering. There is a certain comfort in having the privilege of holding onto the memories that make me who I am.
My Childhood nostalgia fits exactly that. It’s one of the deepest emotions I’ve ever felt.
As I get older, I realize that bits of my childhood start to chip away. It’s slow at first, like the little things. Like when you realize that you are too big to be carried into the bedroom when you fall asleep on the sofa. Or when Christmas really doesn’t feel like Christmas anymore. I would do anything to experience the nostalgia of Christmas when I was young just one more time.
Then it starts to get quicker and quicker, and parts of your childhood start to die. It crumbles away from underneath you. Now I search through deep voids of memories, grasping onto any sign of comfort, the innocence I long for, and the layers of shelter are stripped back. Until I am completely vulnerable. Yearning to crawl back into the arms of the people who were once there. I miss the innocence, imagination, and dreams that we all had growing up.
I used to have the biggest dreams, and nothing could make me believe I couldn’t achieve them. And then I was forced to face an unspeakable reality of what there once was. I will never understand why we wanted to grow up so fast. “I can’t wait to be a teenager” was the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.
Unfortunately, I am the most nostalgic individual, and it’s such a bittersweet feeling. But more than likely a privilege sent in disguise. A yearning for your own memories proves that you’ve lived a life worth living. I will miss a moment when it’s still happening because I know in the future I will look back and remember exactly how I felt in that moment. Life is so strange.
