I am a rather nostalgic person. I could probably go through old posts here and find an excess of overly dramatic and unnecessary nostalgia. But this summer has been different.
I am moving to England in just under two months and yet I haven't found myself drenched in nostalgia as I have been before every other major change in my life. Perhaps this is growing up. More likely I have just been too busy to indulge my old habit. I work over 60 hours each week. That doesn't leave much time for nostalgia.
It could be that I am somehow different. Of course looking back on my past 12 months I can't deny that I've gone through a lot. But here I am. I carry on. And I think that's the difference. I can't bear to look back and bask in nostalgia because I have to keep moving forward. If I look back I'll see the things I don't want to be reminded of. And so I keep my eyes fixed on the horizon.
I spend eleven hours a day with two little kids. They are a constant reminder that I am no longer a child. But I don't feel sad. I don't want to go back to the carefree days of my childhood. I just want to keep moving. I want to put the past behind me.
This blog post is surprisingly hopeful. It is not because I am suddenly happy and well-adjusted and fine-just-fine. It's because I am coping. I have to live on thoughts of the future or else I will drown in the past and present. So I guess I am still dreaming.
Imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia. You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.
- John Green
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