I’m sitting here in my living room.
The rundown building with pictures from when the house held no gloom.
That was years and years and years ago when the house wasn't sad
and I wasn't here living alone.

Standing up walking to picking a picture
My thumb runs across the glass of the frame
The people in the picture smiling and laughing in a house with a large window in the background.

Outside it was raining the gray clouds covering the blue sky.
I remember that day.
That day we laughed.
That day when we went to a friends house to hang out.
It was different then
When we were irresponsible and new to life.
Lates teens 17 or 18.

Constantly being at someone else’s house, talking about plans for a future we didn't know wouldn't exist
We didn’t know the horrors back then.
It was different it was shiny but now it’s used.

No wonder people changed their ways and I’m left behind.
I didn’t change the ways I worked.
I didn’t do what they did with their lives.
They wasted it away.
Now they're just corpses rotting in graves all because they were stupid enough to smoke, vape, and other terrible things they shouldn't have done.

But enough about the present
for that is not why you came.
You came to read about the nostalgia the pictures.
The pictures in the frames.
The ones that clutter that old living room.
The ones that are dusty and from so long ago.
Those pictures hold so much nostalgia it's hard to let go and live in the present.

For that is not where I seem to be.
Although I may be alive in the present my spirit will always be
in the past were the good memories are.
And that's where I'll stay until I rot away.
But when I do,
I will do one thing.
I will continue to stare at the pictures and experience the nostalgia they bring.