The Problem With Nostalgia
By Katie Mather
I have a crippling fear of forgetting things.
I’ve kept diaries fairly consistently since I was maybe 10 years old. I’m not disciplined enough to write every day, nor was I even disciplined enough to write for every year of my life, so I guess by “fairly consistently” I mean that I’ve been extremely consistent in the level of drama and irrational anger and scribbling I’ve incorporated into every entry over the last 13 years.
I know I’m supposed to write every day, but I can’t. Mostly because when I’m actually happy and, like, drinking water or something, I never feel like I have anything to say. Sometimes, under the day’s date, I’ll just write “Happy!!!!!” as if to explain to future me why I took a week off of writing entries.
I like remembering the way I felt and the way I was thinking and who I was with one year or two years or even five years ago. That’s the biggest drive behind writing in a diary — that I get to plan out any feelings of nostalgia and can control it. Because nostalgia, while it’s nice in small doses, really warps my perception of things and I already have trouble with letting go of the past. Nostalgia makes me feel bubbly and soft for what’s already happened and hardened against any change that’s prevented the past to be the present as well. But that’s all so backwards and wrong to me…
