Okay, so I read a rather profound journal a moment ago, and it's got me thinking.
Thinking about some really good times and familiar faces.
Thinking about wonderful friendships forged and ones broken out of stupidity.
Thinking about life in general and the cobblestones that make your feet ache and drive you to glance over your shoulder to turn back to a more familiar path.
Thinking about just how lucky one is at this moment regardless of past transgressions or burnt bridges.

I hate nostalgia with a passion, the kind of hot blooded emotion that just turns you inside out to know just what a fool you've been and what kind of an idiot you can actually be given the opportunity when circumstances arise.