lemon wedge

i let nostalgia sit so close to me on the train that their fingers tickled the lump at the back of my throat. They say, You’re still listening to the same songs you loved in high school, you’re still angry like you were in high school, and nothing about you is exactly as it was in high school.

the inside of my nose stings and my eyes scatter over the edges of disappointment, because i remember how it felt to feel when i wasn’t ashamed of feeling. i remember how it tasted to enjoy other people, other things, any things. now i have silence like a lemon wedge between my teeth, bitter in the memory of jokes and words and advice.

nostalgia curls the ends of my nails, and i am used to holding on to the bad things longer than anything. i have ruined myself.

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