If it were any more silent here, I would swear it were a dream
The stuffy room carries a film as if my eyes were packed in gauze
It smells of nostalgia
Plastics and chemical buildup from a Halloween long past
My costume from when I was 3 is somewhere in these boxes
It feels like a homecoming, though things have changed so greatly
I wear a new costume now, but at the sight of these remnants of past, I am back to crying out for attention
Flailing and fragile
The air tastes of electricity and neglect
I see old books and past school assignments completed with shaky, small hands
Looking through them, I see another version of myself, this one much more curious than I had ever known myself to be
I reside softly in this moment, hoping to appease my great teacher and adversary, Time
These moments are observed through a locked glass door
Viewable but intangible
Like catching thoughts in a glass jar
In the moment, I felt those old wounds as phantom pain
We take in the fleeting time, yet I am unable to bring myself to take the boxes with me
As if the mere thought of moving this memorial of my youth would make it all real
The boxes stay closed, but they split my heart open with fragmented memory and long-expired afternoons
submitted by /u/MemoirsOfSnails
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