Have you ever grieved the loss of your older self?
Have you cried for a part of a person you were a while ago?
Have you?
Its cliche
Its been-there-done-that.
It is very very annoying
how we all wish to turn the clocks
reverse the tides
turn the direction of winds
just to glance back
But it is a life governed by what if's
Could have's
Should have's
Ought have's
Its a terrible way to live.
But in nostalgia breeds self-pity, self-reassurance
It is a poor attempt to give your self esteem a boost
to make yourself believe that it wasn't always so terrible
that I wasn't always this sad
What is life if lived in past?
That you keep reliving the memories in moments that you should be just living?
How good are your memories, I ask?
Are they credible at all?
How can you be sure of a moment that you didn't even live properly in?
It is all a big mess
just a misunderstanding
I think of the time when I lived in the moment
I yearn for the heart that felt joy, real unadulterated happiness
And then I question the sanity of my own mind for wanting things that might never have existed
Who knows what was I a while ago?
I am a figment of my own imaginations.
I am a product of forever tempering of memories
Because nostalgia is a drug.
And like many other, I am addicted.
Have you cried for a part of a person you were a while ago?
Have you?
Its cliche
Its been-there-done-that.
It is very very annoying
how we all wish to turn the clocks
reverse the tides
turn the direction of winds
just to glance back
But it is a life governed by what if's
Could have's
Should have's
Ought have's
Its a terrible way to live.
But in nostalgia breeds self-pity, self-reassurance
It is a poor attempt to give your self esteem a boost
to make yourself believe that it wasn't always so terrible
that I wasn't always this sad
What is life if lived in past?
That you keep reliving the memories in moments that you should be just living?
How good are your memories, I ask?
Are they credible at all?
How can you be sure of a moment that you didn't even live properly in?
It is all a big mess
just a misunderstanding
I think of the time when I lived in the moment
I yearn for the heart that felt joy, real unadulterated happiness
And then I question the sanity of my own mind for wanting things that might never have existed
Who knows what was I a while ago?
I am a figment of my own imaginations.
I am a product of forever tempering of memories
Because nostalgia is a drug.
And like many other, I am addicted.
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