Nostalgia & Longing, or just Depression?

Music to read with: "Quiet Contemplation" - Dream Corp.

It sure is something to just spew unfiltered thoughts onto here. Admittedly, it does feel good. I'm not good at talking about my feelings face-to-face, which I guess realistically makes me pathetic and terrified of people. Or if I want to put it in otaku terms, I'll say that my A.T. Field is way too strong.

Is it a cry for help, a cry for attention, or a desire to have someone read it and talk to me about me in some kind of pretentious “I want to talk about me-me-me”? All of the above, probably. I absolutely love diving into The Self to see what I can learn from it—or learn about it.

(I've gotta say, this feels targeted, since I started writing this while sitting in my philosophy class and the topic was happiness and what is happiness today.)

Last night, I stumbled upon some videos I didn’t know still existed. Ones I hadn’t seen since 2011—14 years ago. These are videos of me in sixth grade, with my high-pitched voice and a lot of blue clothing. I was able to see my old dog Annie, who passed away about five years ago, and my other dog Uno, who was much younger then. I noticed I was using the same television I still have now, and the same poster I found in my closet when I moved back home and re-hung in the same spot. My blue carpet, toys on the floor, and the old quilts my mother made me on the bed. But, instead of blue and grey walls I had back then in these videos, they’re now green. I regret this paint change immensely.

I hadn’t seen this bedroom in so long, and I had been wanting to. Even though I currently live in it.

There were photos of the room post-2013, when I started trying to “grow up” too hard. But this version—the one in the video—housed a much less aware, much less worry-ridden individual. One that was just there to have fun.

Now, given—that’s not entirely true. That child was horribly stressed by their parents, going to a new school, and the burgeoning world of the rapidly expanding internet. And of course, discovering themselves. Yet, they somehow still seemed more at ease in that bedroom.

My bedroom, like most people’s who had their own, was often a safe space. You can find tons of songs written about this—think of “In My Room” by The Beach Boys, or “I Am a Rock” by Simon & Garfunkel. Lyrics from which:

“Hiding in my room, safe within my womb,
I touch no one and no one touches me.”
—Simon & Garfunkel (1966)

I look at this past version of my room and see comfort, even though I know it was full of hardship. Was I more comfortable in that room? Or am I just uncomfortable in this one? I don’t know... well, I kinda know. It was nice having carpet. I absolutely miss having it. That’s beside the point.

What I’m stepping around is calling this “nostalgia.”
I don’t want to—because I don’t think it is nostalgia. I’m fine with how time has moved on and embrace it pretty heavily. There are some things I obviously stick to—everyone does. I have a CRT computer monitor and television. I use a flip phone. I still use my iPod. I still use my Nintendo DS/GameCube/Wii over any other gaming devices I own. All of my favorite anime are from that era of my life. That’s just my style. That’s what I believe in. And I can still participate in those things today, just as I did then. And I do.

That’s why I refuse to call this nostalgia. There’s no longing for something unreachable. Just continuation.

These things are absolutely part of “an era.” They also existed almost exclusively in my bedroom. 2007, when the family put their old computer in my room, and I would lay on the floor watching The Cute Mario Bros. on YouTube, wrapped up in my Mario Kart Wii bed set. Laying in bed listening to my iPod/radio, watching out the window or playing my DS. The time I was allowed to hook up my GameCube in my room and spent the whole summer playing Super Mario Sunshine.
(I used to go to the hotel level when I went to bed and let Mario idle on a bed until he fell asleep, so we could wake up together and get back to the fun. LOL.)

These are all extensions of that place and design that made me comfortable.

And yes, the way I speak about it sounds like nostalgia, but again, I don’t feel the need to go back to that time. I still do those things—just in a different environment.

These days, my bedroom is vastly different from what it was in those videos. Green walls and wood flooring (after I remodeled it in 2015), tatami mats over the wood, no western bed, no ceiling fan, different blinds, missing closet doors. It feels like my room… but sometimes it doesn’t. I don’t feel like I can get as comfortable in it as I used to, so long ago. I modified it beyond recognition in an era where I was trying too hard to force change—and this is what I’m left with.
Now, in a time where I recognize how damaging that forced change really was.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my tatami. It smells nice and adds a unique touch that people love to experience here in the U.S. It also stays cool during summer, which makes it relaxing. But I think I’d prefer a separate room dedicated to the furniture-less lifestyle.

This might all seem like pointless rambling—especially since I said this isn’t nostalgia, and that I’m fine with the progression of things. So why whine about it, if it doesn’t really bother me that much?

Dunno.

In reality, this has nothing to do with bedrooms.
They're an analogy, for myself.

Something I picked up from my mother was the habit of rearranging my bedroom every time I felt like something in my life needed to shift. It was her thing first, and sometimes she’d do it for me when I was a kid. I remember coming home from school and finding my whole room turned around. It always felt exciting, like a reset button got pressed. There was also the day she brought home a stack of posters to cover up my empty walls. (Maybe I’m too hard on her.)

I think I’ve changed my room around more times in 2025 than I did during all of 2024. Something’s off. Something needs to change. But I still can’t figure out what it is.

This college semester’s been grinding me down. On top of that, there’s the slow-burn sabotage at work—how they’re clearly trying to push me out without officially firing me, all because I’ve been the only one standing up and calling out the way others are treated. It’s caused strain. Financially. Emotionally. I think I’m sliding back into the depression I worked so hard to climb out of. Or maybe I never really left it. At this point, I can’t tell where it begins or ends.

It makes sense that Welcome to the N・H・K keeps hitting me harder lately. Because I get it. I can’t find contentment either. And every time I think I’m getting close, it slips right through.

Adult life is rough, and the changes that have come into the current era have also been pretty rough. 

So what was it about those videos?

When I watched those old videos, I was bewildered to see myself at a time before the weight of society and expectations really began piling on. My only worries were what to have for snack when I got home, checking my ROBLOX tickets, and hoping Courage the Cowardly Dog was on. Worst case scenario—hoping dinner would be something I liked.

That messy but homey bedroom was a representation of a more carefree self. One who wasn’t afraid to be emotional. These days, my room is tidy and organized… the opposite of that. Even though I’ve spent a lot of time working on myself to get back in touch with that stupid high-pitched squeaker in those videos, I think they’re ahead of me in a lot of ways.

Maybe I’m the stupid one.

I also still hate these green walls.