i'm too young to be this nostalgic

nostalgia sneaks up on you in the quietest moments. it hits when you're scrolling through old pictures or listening to songs from years ago, and suddenly, you're lost in a world that feels so familiar yet distant, like visiting a childhood home that now belongs to someone else. what's strange is that i’m not even old enough to justify feeling this way. i'm in my twenties, and yet here i am, pining for a past that’s barely a decade behind me. it’s as if i’m too young to be this nostalgic, but i can’t seem to stop myself.

growing up, nostalgia felt like something only older people experienced. you’d hear your grandparents talk about the “good old days,” their voices tinged with longing for a time that seemed impossibly far away. it was always about a world that i never knew, one that sounded simpler, slower, and more connected. and now, here i am, looking back on my own version of those days—except the world i’m missing isn’t that far in the past. it’s the world of flip phones, dvd rentals, and friday nights spent doing nothing in particular with friends who felt like family.

it feels ridiculous at times, like i'm rushing into feelings meant for a different stage of life. but the more i think about it, the more i realize that this sense of nostalgia is deeply tied to how quickly the world is changing around me. the technology, the culture, even the way we connect with people—everything feels different now. the pace of life is so fast that it almost feels like you're constantly sprinting to keep up. so maybe, in a way, this nostalgia is less about age and more about longing for a time when things felt more manageable, when the future wasn’t rushing at me like a train that i’m desperately trying to catch.

source

take the music, for example. growing up, i never thought much about the songs on the radio; they were just there, filling the space as i went about my life. but now, i hear those same songs and they carry a weight i never expected. they're not just tunes; they're time capsules, pulling me back to moments i hadn't even realized were special at the time. the first time i rode my bike to the park alone, the late nights spent doing nothing but talking under the stars, or the way everything felt so much more possible when you were still young enough to believe that anything could happen.

i think part of this nostalgia comes from realizing that life is moving forward, and in that movement, you're constantly leaving things behind. it's not that i want to go back and relive those moments, necessarily, but i do want to remember them—hold onto them in some way. it’s funny how the simplest things can trigger a wave of nostalgia that knocks the wind out of you. a whiff of a familiar perfume, the sight of an old-school video game, or even walking by a schoolyard and hearing the laughter of kids who are so blissfully unaware that these are the days they’ll one day miss too.

i find myself longing for a time when friendships were simpler. back in school, there were no elaborate plans to meet up, no coordinating schedules weeks in advance. you just showed up, together, and that was it. now, everyone is busy, spread out across cities, countries, or even continents. catching up requires effort, and there’s a kind of bittersweetness to realizing that the easy closeness of those days is something that doesn’t come around as often anymore. i wonder if that’s what nostalgia is really about—the recognition that some things are gone, not because you wanted them to be, but because life moved on and took them with it.

and looking back, i think part of my early nostalgia stems from being the elder sibling. i was always the one expected to set the example, to be responsible, and to grow up faster than i might have wanted to. i remember being told that i needed to “be mature” or “look after my younger sibling” when all i really wanted to do was enjoy the carefree moments that childhood promised. there was always this quiet pressure to be the grown-up, even when i didn’t fully understand what that meant. while other kids my age were busy being kids, i was often handling responsibilities that felt too heavy for my young shoulders. i suppose now, as i look back, i’m nostalgic for the childhood i didn’t fully get to experience—the days i missed out on because i was busy being "grown-up."

and maybe that’s why i feel nostalgic at such a young age. it’s not about being stuck in the past, but rather trying to make sense of how quickly everything is changing. there’s something grounding about looking back, about remembering where you came from and who you were before the world got so big and complicated. it’s comforting to know that even as life speeds ahead, there’s a part of you that remains connected to those simpler times, to the person you used to be before adulthood started demanding so much.

there’s a beauty in nostalgia, even when it catches you off guard. it’s a reminder that life, in all its fleeting moments, is precious. it forces you to slow down, even if just for a minute, to appreciate the little things that once made up the whole of your world. the summer afternoons that seemed to stretch on forever, the friendships that felt like they’d last a lifetime, the sense of possibility that came with every new school year. these are the moments that define us, even if we don’t realize it at the time.

but nostalgia can also be tricky. it has a way of making the past seem better than it actually was. when i look back, i don’t see the struggles, the awkward moments, or the mistakes that felt monumental at the time. instead, i remember the good stuff—the laughter, the freedom, the endless opportunities that felt just around the corner. and maybe that’s okay. maybe nostalgia is about giving yourself permission to remember things a little more fondly than they actually were, because in the end, those memories shape how we move forward.

so here i am, too young to be this nostalgic, but feeling it all the same. and maybe that’s just part of growing up in a world that’s constantly changing. it’s the recognition that life doesn’t slow down, that time keeps moving whether you’re ready or not. but in those moments when nostalgia hits, it feels like you’ve pressed pause for just a little while. you get to relive those simpler days, even if only in your mind, and carry a piece of them with you as you go.

maybe i’m not too young to be this nostalgic. maybe nostalgia isn’t about age at all, but about remembering what matters, about holding onto the parts of life that feel like home even as everything else shifts around you. in that case, i’ll take my nostalgia, and i’ll cherish it—for the memories it brings back, and for the perspective it gives me on the present.

---