Nostalgia

What a word.. Nostalgia.. It has many meanings for many people, but somwhow it always gives this daydreaming impression of something that is missing, that we would like to have close, something precious to us. I don’t know why, but somehow I consider nostalgia a noble word, a word that makes people honor the past, no matter what past it was.
For half a year I learned slowly to feel this word, to realize how much feelings can be hidden within. After half a year of blaming my past for being what it is and was, I realized that I miss it. Once it was a nuisance to hear my parent’s voice, because I heard them over and over again.. nowadays it is pain.. the pain to know that they are so far away. And while we are approaching the winter and the nights get cold, I realize that the icy breeze around my feet is nothing compared to the ice tormenting my heart.
I never told anyone, but the moment I crossed the border away from home I started to cry, started to shake all over. I knew that the price for my own freedom, for being who I am, was more than just a hit in the stomach. I had the choice to stay and submit to the laws of the place, denying once more who I am, or to leave and never come back. Never.. never ever.. To be a slave or forsaken.. what would have been your decision?
And while my pride and my fear would never allow me to look back, my heart falls slowly apart, missing what it so fiercely tried to fight. I go on smiling and cheering to all, pretending that I am fine, while in my deepest mind I suffer. As long as they don’t know that I am not fine they won’t worry. As long as I am far they will believe I am fine.. Trying to protect them even if it means to live for months in a car and eat barely anything because the cash gets tight. Trying to keep them in a warmly surrounded ignorance, because those who do not know are worried less than those who do know.. Keeping the head high and mocking about silly stuff to hide the sorrow that tears me apart day by day.
And while I stare at the screen, tears flow from my cheek, thinking by myself that they are somehow sweet when they talk about their frustrating struggle between each other, that they are somehow lovely when they cry me a river about my incompetence and the cruelty of life. I would give so much to be at their place right now.. to even know what it means to be angry about such things. I miss them, I really do.
Nostalgia.. a word that someone should experience before using it.
But it’s too late, I can’t go back…
I can’t go back..