Nostalgia will be the death of me.

There's something really romantic about missing the past, but it consumes my present. I always say that nostalgia will kill me, but I've never stopped and realized how much I actually hurt for a time that's so far gone. Though I'm not sure it's the time that I miss, or if it's the feeling. I think I might just miss when my heart wasn't heavy and everything felt warm and comfortable. When life wasn't so complicated and mornings and fresh starts didn't feel like a dread. When I didn't feel like a monster and didn't second-think every word I said. Everything was brighter. 

But that's when I start to question if what I miss was even real. It could just be fake memories and core moments infected by the unhappiness of the present in search for a comfort or justification for what now is.