ℕ𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕘𝕚𝕒

/näˈstaljə,nəˈstaljə/

noun

• 𝖆 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖑 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙, 𝖙𝖞𝖕𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖞 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖉 𝖔𝖗 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘.

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 one 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 without effort in explaining my current self.
It might 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚖 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝙸’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐,…
and 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍,
𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 exactly 𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃,…

𝚋𝚞𝚝 then again, it’s way𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 WRONG.

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍, you perhaps can grab hold of what I’m trying to explain,
if you grasp that feeling you better understand already than you realize,

You 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠,..
𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝,
definitely not 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚢,
𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 RAW 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 either,
but it’s 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 it’s almost the same.

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐,
𝚢𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝-𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐,
filled up with 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 so full,
𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 simultaneously somehow 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍.

𝙸𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚜,
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚠𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚢,
𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐,…
Perhaps a 𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 that arises as you are brought back in memory to a most wondrous moment, it’s the greatest moment you can remember,
And knowing it’s already happened somehow makes it gut-wrenching

Perhaps because subconsciously you understand you’ll never get to go back there,
to that exact moment again,
It couldn’t ever be so perfect.

It aches  like arthritis to the core,…
feels something like a a deep and buried permanent bruise of the bone.

It’s just going to be there,…

It becomes a “normal” feeling in time,

And then you wonder, only now that it’s brought to the light and attention,

Why is that normal?

 

Is this something everyone experiences or is it just me?

It’s pretty WEIRD that feeling that empty, full, bruised, soothed, aching deep within that accompanies moments of nostalgia or looking back on wonderful irreplaceable moments,….
Yet, t𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝, 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑, 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝, …. 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎,… 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚖.