Polaris

It is a painful nostalgia.

Last night, I went back for the council camp campfire night. There was something different, going back this time. I saw the school in a light I hadn't seen since my council camp when I was in J1. There was fear, one which I can't quite describe even now. There's something about the school at night, with all its calmness and serenity, that allows the imagination to run rampant. In my mind, all hell breaks lose, and beyond the corporeal, all hope abandon, ye who enters there. It is a whirlwind of memories and sights; ghosts of the past walking along the hallways, as though it is 2005 again. They call out to me, and I try to answer. They cannot hear me. I shout back. They cannot hear me.

The ghosts start to fade into a greenish nothingness.

Then all is quiet.

I am left sitting down in a black hole of sound. Tears stream down my face. My friends, out of their uniforms, return back to my side. The gradual sound of chatter brings me back to reality. I see their faces. I look into their eyes. I see exactly the same thing.

We know that those 2 years will never come back.

But sometimes, nostalgia is all the more beautiful. Painful yes, but nonetheless beautiful.

If this is tragedy, then give me tragedy.