The Weight of Now: Escaping into Nostalgia

    I’ve been feeling lonely lately, even though I’m not alone. I’m not entirely sure why—maybe it’s because of recent events or the fact that I often find myself doing things that make me feel disconnected from the present. It’s strange because, despite wanting so badly to find my grip on the present moment, I turn to a constant stream of media. It’s almost like a form of procrastination. I’ll read three books in a day or binge-watch four seasons of a show in two, just to avoid facing the feeling of now. It’s like carrying around a heavy weight I can’t seem to let go. I write stories to distract myself from my tasks, and I rush to bed, hoping a bad day will end sooner—though I’m finding that bad days are becoming more frequent. If escapism weren’t so common, it could easily become an addiction.

Nostalgia feels like an addiction, too. It’s fleeting because every moment I spend trying to recapture that sense of youth only adds another layer of time to it. The more I use nostalgia to escape, the more it starts to lose its magic. Recently, I’ve fallen into some early 2000s nostalgia—things like the Frutiger Metro art, 27 Dresses, Ramona and Beezus, and social media sites that try to replicate that familiar 2000s aesthetic. It’s odd because I find myself wanting a Motorola flip phone instead of a sleek iPhone, which makes me feel a little like a poser. I think it’s because I long for simplicity, hoping that by immersing myself in past media, I can regain a sense of rhythm or ease. But the more I try, I find that life doesn't become simpler, but emptier instead.