Anemoia (noun): Nostalgia for a time you've never known. Imagine stepping through the frame into a sepia-tinted haze, where you could sit on the side of the road and watch the locals passing by. Who lived and died before any of us arrived here, who sleep in some of the same houses we do, who look up at the same moon, who breathe the same air, feel the same blood in their veins—and live in a completely different world.

This is frustrating.

Very frustrating.

A slow song is being played on an old record player. The sound filled my room, it has a kind of vintage sound to it. A kind of scratchy quality. The polaroids being hung on the wall gives me goosebumps -- adrenaline rush even -- the feeling of existential dread, nostalgia and depression. 

An oddly familiar feeling that makes me feel... uncomfortable.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not depressed. Hell I'm not even problematic to begin with. It's very hard to describe the emotion. It's a very terrible feeling, just listening to a song from early 80s and looking at the polaroids I took from the countries I went is enough to make me feel like this -- fall into the deepest pits of depression, but at the same time, it's what makes me both love and hate it --

-- the song, the polaroids, the feeling.

A feeling of a really strong nostalgia that I can't seem to put a finger on. It's frustrating... because when I look at the polaroids for a second I immediately feel like I'm remembering something from a different life.

Am I dying?

I'm not su