Nostalgia-- a universal understanding of ambiguous feelings. Wanting to cry, but not knowing the emotions the tears would represent. Overbearing reminders of the past’s simplicity. Reminiscing of the juvenile thoughts-- the naive, internal guarantee that all would be guaranteed.
The pictures that have lived for over a decade, buried underneath a pile of our checklists and plans of execution for newfound aspirations. Who we were may not be who we are today: did we abandon our old selves, or did we discover our new selves? We ponder, attempting to find an unbiased perspective through the bookshelf that once was quite empty.
The years accumulate, along with the memories, the experiences, and the successes. We become hesitant to toss the possessions that were formerly prized— our first accomplishments— into the pile we call clutter. We might tell ourselves we’re sophisticated now, for we grew into our souls.
Physically, we can organize, and curate our lives in the form of a charcuterie board; you know, for the adults we now are. However, the kid in us will want to hold onto the collection of scribbles we once called art.
There’s art in looking back.
There’s art in letting go.