reminiscing in roundabouts
a snapshot of all the times not lived.
who are you, nostalgia?
It’s nine at night and I’m looking out the window of my little college apartment, reminiscing about my time here and grappling with the thought of potentially never returning in a little over two months.
Except I hadn’t really had a time here. Or anything I really want to return to.
So then, what exactly am I nostalgic for?
