the logistics of nostalgia.

I'm not one to verbally dwell upon the past. In my mind, well, surprisingly not that often either. I'm too busy living in the present, that's the only way I can sustain my happiness, it has sufficed for almost 23 years.

This isn't about any thing, any event, any person. This is simply my way or compacting it and putting it away in its respective filing cabinet in my mind.
To every person that I knowingly have ever torn apart, to any person I've done wrong upon without any deserving purpose, to any friend I have abandoned to pursue the wrong ones, to the objects of meaning that I've carelessly lost in the past, to the extended family I never really had, to my mother and father, to the teachers I didn't care to listen to when they told me I had what it takes to pursue what I deserved, to the events I didn't attend in dismay of others, to the music I never gave a chance, to the classes I've never attended, to the days I wasted by not noticing that the sun is shining and the world is still in its wonderful equilibrium, to the nature I hated with incredible passion as a child but now crave...
In this very moment, sorry will never suffice. I've become a different person that wouldn't dare repeat those mistakes. Perhaps, all of the previously mentioned things are normal to experience and to remember them as I do now and can never dare to forget...but really, I don't think they are. It's not the events, people and things themselves...it's how I react to them and perceive them. I don't see them as others would and honestly, I prefer as I do. Superficiality and indifference is a plague amongst young people who've experienced more than they'd like to admit.






Sidenote: I'm terrible with negative nostalgia. When something reminds me of a bad memory, an especially bad one...it's annoyingly difficult to rid myself of the thought. It's especially hard for me for reasons I cannot exactly pinpoint. I think it's just me and how I am. I think I have this elevated psychological ability to see myself externally and figure out precisely what the issue is. I can analyze it and figure out why I'm feeling like that but, I can't stop it. I have absolutely zero power against it and that right there, is terrible in the worst ways. I suppose it's the imbalance in my reaction to such nostalgia; perhaps my elevated ability to analyze the event significantly takes away from the possibility of diminishing it. Whatever it is, I'm aware of all of it...and that's one of things I enjoy about myself.
Sometimes, such events are extremely fleeting and almost go unnoticed; it's almost like clock-work.