I can't put my finger on it. It exists, but it doesn't have a name. Yet.
It's easy, some people said to me, it's called nostalgia.
It ain't that.
It's something strong.. palpable. It doesn't have enough words, and nostalgia ain't one of them.
It's something else.. I can't even describe it.
It feels thin, but strong.
It weights a lot, but feels so light.
Maybe it's a mix of multiple feelings.
Lost? Confused? At a loss of words?
Does the last one count as a feeling?
Hmm.
Then I realize: it exists, whatever it is, and I have to take care of it the best I can.
How? No idea, my heart humms perplexed.
Let it be, my mind approves.
In the end, what must I do? Ignore it like a coward? Be a jerk to my own self?
I want to indulge into it.. even if it feels weird. Even if I have no way of describing it with words or drawings.
What would it turn into, if I indulge too much? Will it have a name then?
But most importantly: Will I regret it?
Hmm...
Feelings are too complicated sometimes. That's why I don't like them much.