Saturday, October 2, 2010

Put your hand up if you're nostalgic.

I'm not sure I like nostalgia all that much. The word
itself was apparently formed from the Greek terms for 'pain' and 'ache', and, t
o me, n
ostalgia is certainly painful. It aches. Because it means craving, very strongly, something you will never have... the past. Hindsight that is often so beautiful, it's breathtaking.

To reach this place involves the impossibility of time travel... you know you've been there before, but you just can't get back. No matter how much you want to revisit this stunning memory - even if just for a moment - it's, simply, too much to ask.

And what nails nostalgia's last laugh is, you can get daringly close to some missed moments of your past, but it's never quite the same. In fact it's irritatingly different.

You can get back together with an ex partner you miss.
You can even go back to the very first place you met.
The first place you kissed.
You may wear the same clothes.
You could stand the same way.
You can mirror your previous physical actions perfectly.

But it will always be just that - a physical mirror. Your emotional reflection will never mirror itself. It's trapped in the future.

Like many people, I am most nostalgic for my childhood. It was a happy hood to be in. Life was wonderful and full of promise. There's still a lot of hope hanging around, but it doesn't carry the same freedom. Experiences - however important - collect in your mind and weigh it down.

In childhood, my head felt so light. There was careless disregard. Blissful ignorance. My parents were around all the time. We had a lovely house. I had a sister almost my own age to play and fight with. I had my favourite books, toys and games.

I was truly very lucky. And I miss it so much sometimes it hurts... ecstatically.

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