I’m listening to Death Cab for Cutie’s album ‘Plans.’

I’m reading ‘The Thief of Always’ by Clive Barker.

I’m thinking of my summer days long ago.

When I think of these days, I feel sick. Is it the intense nostalgia? Is it from knowing I can’t touch those days anymore? Is it from the memories being hazy and far-away? I want to tell my memories to someone. I know they don’t/won’t/wouldn’t care, but I just want to get it out of my mind; out of my throat.