Perhaps I am too young to feel this way, but sometimes there are waves of nostalgia that wash over me, dousing all of my being. I'm only sixteen years old, but a mere two years ago feels like another life. Responsibilities are delivered with time, and the sweet innocent rose tint of the world begins to caramelize, threatening to burn. I feel nostalgic most when the seasons change. The transitions remind me of change, but the yearly repetition brings forth the past.
Nostalgia is a weird sensation. Sometimes it's heavy and dark, but other times, it's comforting.
I'll find my heart ache over easier times, or lost friendships. Sometimes it's warm and I feel a sense of pride when reflecting on my development and growth. Overall it's just very complex.
Sometimes I just take time to reminisce. This involves silent isolation where I can retreat into my head, reliving feelings and rebuilding environments. Other times, I look back at old pictures and listen to old songs. The best actions in moments of nostalgia are when it's shared. Whether it's over coffee or at home, to reflect on past times with friends is such an intimate and relieving thing. It's something that brings friends closer and affirms that there is still care.
Viewing old times has also made it apparent to me that memories aren't big events or dramatic happenings, but rather small happenings. In Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood, the protagonist Toru says "Memory is a funny thing. When I was in the scene, I hardly paid it any mind. I never stopped to think of it as something that would make a lasting impression, certainly never imagined that eighteen years later I would recall it in such detail." This thought is important, because I know that I often feel like my life has become nothing but insignificant actions. When that happens, I flee to times when I was younger. The thing is, realistically thinking, these times were not any more phenomenal in context.
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