NostalGIA 


By Gia Defortuna '27
 

​

Dear Seven-Year-Old Self: 

 

Sometimes, I sit and stare blankly at something only my eyes can see.

Sometimes, I like to lose myself in nostalgia, in the old me.

Sometimes, I wonder if you would like who I am— 

A girl double in age but with the same core. 

Did you think that I would be doing much more?

 

Sometimes, I try to remember 

all the things I swore I would never do—

the foods I swore I would never eat, 

the people I would never be friends with— 

and check to see if it's all still true. 

Am I so different that I can no longer be you?

 

People asking if I feel like myself gains a new meaning.

With your truth am I intervening?

Did I lose my shine and luster?

Am I no longer unique? 

Am I becoming more myself 

or someone else, week by week?

 

The remembrances don’t come consistently. 

They’re not a flowing river but rather a choppy sea. 

Sometimes a certain smell will remind me of you, 

But as fewer and fewer memories come,

I fear that they are becoming too new. 

That doesn’t mean they are not nice, 

Just a different hue. 

 

What was purple is now red.

My feet hanging out the once-long bed.

So when I go to sleep tonight, 

It will be you that I am holding tight. 

When I whisper to you in my dreams, 

They’ll call me crazy, 

But you in my mind I will keep. 

 

“I miss you,” I say with a smile on my face, 

But you’re only a vision in a faraway place.

I'll never forget you although you are gone. 

I'll think of you often, with every dawn. 

I'll remember you soon, my dear friend. 

Until then, we have a life to attend.