The nostalgia is tickling the back of my throat. The way you look at me is the same. The way you act around me is the same. But I know you are different. I know I am different. This place looks the same. But I know it is different. I don’t fit here anymore. As I look back through that rose tinted glass, I see the years filled with memories, and they look appealing. But when I remember them for what they really were, I remember pain, confusion, love, and anger. Time moves, no matter how strange it feels. No matter how much this year seemed to be free from the rules of the outside world. Other peoples lives move on without me, just like my life moved on without them. I feel torn in two, by two things I love, by two places I gave my whole heart to, without realizing I didn’t have a whole heart to give.