Sipping on Nostalgia
Nostalgia - a sweetly bitter taste, filling my mouth like cotton dipped in honey and past loves. The world around me a dreamscape, the same but different in almost imperceptible ways. The little things that show time has past and I have been absent.
Moving on to something new that tastes like lemons and mint melting on possibilities. The ghost of a younger me running by making my hair swirl around me. Her energy carried on haunted laughter from a time when potential was infinite; where the future wasn’t even of concern. Drunk nights dancing on rooftops and running through waterfalls in the dark, the fearless. Flourishing under the gaze of a city that held me like a mother holds on to her daughter's hand.
Little did I know that this city was my playground, preparing me for what the world had been planning. I thought it was so big but in reality it was a fish tank sitting on the edge of an ocean of a world - so infinite that there would always be novelty nipping at my heels. I blink and resurface from memories of a past carefree flighty girl. I sit at a coffee shop that feels like home, except all the faces moving behind the counter are wrong.
The originals have moved on to their own infinities beyond what my mind can imagine. Now I am a ghost of the past sipping a latte the flavor of nostalgia. The old names that used to be the big names now names irrelevant and undefined. They never left this cradle of a city behind - dust covering their pages as they repeat on an infinite loop. I sigh and pull out my phone letting my family know that I am coming home early to a city where I am still writing my story.
History - a definition of me, yet this place inaccurate to who I am now. It is dangerous to sit in the past too long, it starts to shade your current perception. So I blink away the dust of what used to be - and face the wind of reality.