Going back to where you used to be. Whether it’s visiting a city you used to live or a neighborhood…it’s like going back in time. Transporting yourself to a person you used to be. A place you used to know. A version of yourself you used to know. Memories that cling to you. Bitter sweet to the touch. You remember the places you fell in love. The exact moment where you knew he wasn’t the one. And the place where you knew you were over him. And then you walk across the river, and see the place where you met the next one. The moments and memories are endless. Especially when you know a part of you grew up there.
Going back is like opening a box of memories. Some you want, some you push back into the box, and know aren’t worth ever opening again. Because they were meant to leave in the past.
But how do you not crack a peak? How do you not wonder or think about that little moment when that sly smile crossed your face? When that flutter ran across you?
Sometimes you let it. Sometimes you let it seep through. Because in truth, it brought you to where you are today. It made you who you are. It made you a better version of yourself.
And in the end, they are just memories. And the best part, you pack them back up and decide to take them with you when you leave again or throw them off that bridge. Because in the end, what you do with what life hands you, is in your control.