A Place Called Past

I've been trying my hardest to express what I'm feeling right now but it seems that my english vocabulary is still lacking. I've pressed backspace a thousand times already and I'm just on the fourth sentence.

"Happiness is not an experience. It is something that  you remember."

You see, I have trouble putting into words this feeling of being stuck in the past. 

I live in the past. For me, the past is a place full of happy memories, a place where I can always go back to. It is a place where everything is alright and everything is complete. And even after many years, these memories remain vivid, as if they just happened yesterday. 

The past is where I can still see you.

I would call for you and you'd wave at me and smile like you always did and automatically, I'd have a huge grin plastered on my face the whole day. If fickle-mindedness were a sport, you'd win by a landslide. You were snobbish yet friendly. You seemed to care but actually you don't. You had many talents like singing and dancing but you don't like to show them off. By the way, you were great at acting too. You were strong and determined but I've seen you break and cry. I would have wanted to comfort you but then again I knew that you'd just run away. You make me sad and happy at the same time. You won't reject me but you won't accept me either. Those were the little things that I liked about you. No, they were the great things that I liked about the great you.

You said that we should try it out but you gave up a few days later. I was sad but tears never touched my cheek. I was used to it. I was used to the huge doses of emotional torture you've been giving me for so long. It was a hard and lonely road to recovery. And when I decided to move on and pick up the pieces of my broken heart I realized that it can never be completed - you took a piece along with you.

These memories were sad but they were the only time we spent together. Though hurting, I was happy; though wanting more, I was content. These feelings of uncertainty dominate me until this day but I couldn't care less.

Maybe I'll go back to that place in my sleep. 





  





This entry was posted on Sunday, October 2, 2011 and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response.

3 Responses to “A Place Called Past”

  1. I get the nostalgia too. Sometimes I feel that we think fondly on the past because we choose to remember the good memories, and block the bad ones.
    Thank you for visiting my blog! You're comment was sweet and made my day. There are TONS of poets on blogger, once you find one, you find many more.
    I really felt the emotion in your post. Awesome!!!
    Miranda<3

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  2. This was beautiful and so familiar in a way. Wonderful memories are hard to move forward from sometimes. Same goes for the "what might have been" moments in life.

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  3. ok, honestly, this made me sad but in a good way. i really felt the emotion. nice one bro. : )

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