what if

nostalgia. I guess this is what it means to go back in time, to go back to one's memories and find a place you sorta recognize. when you get that vague hazy feeling of both familiarity and peculiarity, in a place where truths are told and emotions are felt. where five am talks are welcome and roasting marshmallows is fine, where you lay by my side and we are one. 

you tell me to take you somewhere that is me. well, it is here, with the fog and the dim light striking through, rushing at eighty miles an hour as the scene blurs through and you forget yourself. as you charge forward rapidly and forget everything else, only listening to the wind roar and the trees sway with the peace of the loud silence. 

you feel high - 
hell, you're drunk. 

drunk on euphoria, drunk on the memories and laughs you had, the sparkle of fireworks on new year's eve, the dots before your eyes as you down your tenth shot, as you welcome new families starting, baby showers overflowing, as friends start settling and people start distancing. then you swallow back a gulp and try to force tears back into your eyes. as if time could go backward and pain could be reversible. as if you could do it all over again, run fast, fly through the woods, fall, love again. 

you tell yourself to keep dreaming but what if it's too late - 
what if, this is it? 

this is your life and it's just ending one second at a time, one tick, two tocks at a moment and before you know it, this scene will be gone. this distant haze, this light casting through the window shades, this dark shadow of sketched-out branches. the memories will fade like washed-out photographs, polaroids frayed on the side, sweaters worn-out with wear, notebooks too dense and weathered. 

what if, all this will leave, all this will die?