Time Travel

I have a secret—I can time travel.

I am in April 2024, but part of my brain exists in April 2023. And I can tell you for a fact that the sky looks the same, the Sun sets the same. I still feel the tears I cried on one of those April days, and I still feel the laughs I laughed on multiple days; I still feel the happiness of connection with my friends—the moments when we truly became friends—I remember all of it, I still keep living all of it.

I’ve always been full of big, intense emotions. There was a moment 7 years ago, that felt exactly like this one. When the weight of nostalgia and love suddenly settled upon my chest, and it was a welcome pain, a soft hurt—that didn’t stem out of losing, but from being lucky enough to have lived through so much beauty and joy.

I keep telling people that I am bad at letting go, worse at moving on; part of me keeps longing to exist in the happy moments of love I’ve found in the past. Yet, this nostalgia, this longing, this love, manages to sneak up on me. Just when I think I’ve let go, I haven’t. But the thing is, I don’t think I’d ever have it any other way. Usually, it’s so hard to remember that there’s good in the world ‘cause when the darkness takes me in, I get lost in it. But in moments like these, the world feels so beautiful, so full of love and joy; in moments like these, I feel glad for every breath I get to take in, in this world.

And so I’ve travelled, yet again, to 7 years ago and to a year ago, and to all the years and moments I’ve ever lived. And here, at 5 am, as the Sun slowly rises, as I see it, I can also see another Sun that was setting. And as hard as it is, I look forward to all the Suns that will rise and set again.