Every time I look at old photos of a place I once called home, there is a part of me that wants to cry.. that and the fact that I listen to Bob Marley whenever I do that.. You know that feeling? of wanting to go back, of wanting to remember? of wanting to, at least, once more, feel how it is to be free?
It makes me ache.. for the lost times, for the days that young, of days of freedom and idealism… of days of being not knowing what lies ahead..
And while looking at the photos, I was lost.. the aching, the longing.. it’s there.. but the place.. it’s not the same..and if ever I go back, it will never be the same..
It must be the reason why I never had plans to go back as I will ache more..
you know that feeling.. of the one who got away?
that kind of sadness?
It’s the same sadness..
I don’t know.. those were the days.. and it was so good that reminiscing becomes a heart ache.
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