but here is the truth of nostalgia: we don’t feel it for who we were, but who we weren’t. we feel it for all the possibilities that were open to us, but that we didn’t take.
watching: brooklyn 99 s2; gravity falls s2; how to get away with murder s1;
agents of s.h.i.e.l.d. s2
reading: the knife of never letting go by patrick ness
listening to: welcome to night vale & the thrilling adventure hour
tracking: anotherwillgrayson & network tags
queue: on; 12am - 12 am
**if you want me to tag a specific show/person/trigger/etc with a different tag feel free to send me a message, i'd be happy to change that for you!
if you see something, say nothing. And drink to forget.
Time is like wax, dripping from a candle flame. In the moment, it is molten and falling, with the capability to transform into any shape. Then the moment passes, and the wax hits the table top and solidifies into the shape it will always be. It becomes the past — a solid single record of what happened, still holding in its wild curves and contours the potential of every shape it could have held.
It is impossible not to feel a little sad, looking at that bit of wax, that bit of the past. It is impossible not to think of all the wild forms that wax now will never take.
But then you remember — I remember — that we are, even now, in another bit of molten wax. We are in a moment that is still falling, still volatile — and we will never be anywhere else. We will always be in that most dangerous, most exciting, most possible time of all: the now. Where we never can know what shape the next moment will take.