The feeling creeps slowly, filling my bones with a deep sense of nostalgia.

I remember the days I was young, sitting in the same spot outside the cafe.

I was clueless, free, and hopeful.

My dreams were wild and tasteful, but now those dreams have disappeared into solemn ashes, burned away by the fire of the world.

The warmth of the sun does nothing to warm the coldness of nostalgia.

The feeling stabs my heart, pain beats after beats.

I try and shake the feeling from my mind, but still it creeps, reminding me of my failure.

Sitting at this cafe, I am nothing but a working woman, with a cycling life that never seeks difference.

As nostalgic bites at me as I sip my coffee I come to a finally thought, I will attempt to change my life only so that nostalgic won’t hurt as much.