O sweet nostalgia,
You, who torture us with vivid pictures and lucid sounds.
You, who bring back fragrant scents and fierce sensations.
You, who we loathe when we feel the blame.
You, who we worship when times are mad.
We run to you in desperate need to escape back to times when everything was wonderful. Why is it that you always taste so wonderful? Why is it that you always taste sweeter than this very day?
Everything about you is perfect.
But you are just an illusion.
Everything is an illusion but this very moment.