segunda-feira, 20 de abril de 2015

Old World


    Today I had a very strange feeling. I was sitting in the comfort of the AC in my cousin's room while reading a book (1984, more precisely) when a weird kind of nostalgia hit me: the notion that everything I am living today will turn into past.
    "But M, you genius, isn't that obvious?" you might ask. In a way, yeah... But I don't mean it like that. Of course I know one day everything in the present is going to be in the past. But it is one thing to know that, it's another thing to feel it. Well, I started to think about how I would see all of that that I'm living today when I'm older, let's say, the age of my father (50). Will I see it the same way I see old photos and movies and read texts from the 1970s? Will I consider my current way of living, dressing, eating and speaking to be old, antique, ancient? And I don't mean that in a good nostalgic way.
    Whenever I feel this "bad nostalgia" - let's call it that - my heart gets heavy, as if a melancholy shadow had struck my soul (I didn't want that to sound poetic, sorry). It's hard to explain, but I feel like I'm not enjoying the present, like I'm wasting my life and that by the time I realize how much it's time has already passed, I would suddenly be 60 years old (it's okay if you didn't get a thing, I kinda didn't either).
    At the end of all of this, I wonder if I should appreciate more the little things in my life. I always feel like big things never happen to me, but maybe I set all my expectations too high. Or perhaps I just don't have any. There are so much stuff about me I don't quite understand yet.

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