There’s so much I want to do over again.
and not because I’d do it any differently.
I hate not being able to define what I miss so much.
Nostalgia comes with the vivid recollection of things already faded away.
Memories shrink away in the distance.
Everything in between, being much more than vacuum, distorts them.
And we keep getting pulled further away.
I forgot who I used to be. Now he waves at me from the distance.
I knew where I was going, but I don’t know where that got me.
And even not knowing where I’m going doesn’t slow me down.
I can wait for him, but he can’t come.
He had such a nice cozy home.
That he left, it was time to see the outside.
Colourful, yet bland. Cold, and beautiful in its own way.
It was everything else.
That home isn’t the same way I had left it.
All things fade, but leave their residue.
Never the same, but always there.
And I carry so little with me.
But I don’t need that home.
I don’t need those things to be just the way they were.
And I don’t need perfect memories.
I don’t even need to know where I’m going.
I just need to look into your eyes, and see that you still remember who we used to be,
when we were just a few thousand miles further from infinity.
And know that we will always carry our pieces of it, so that nothing is ever lost.