When I look back at all the things I've gone through, be it my own doing or not, I get a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the feelings I had locked away, pushed to the back of my mind, so I could move forward- a perfect example of carrying out baggage. I wasn't jaded, and perhaps the steady highs and lows of turbulent experiences branded me in such a way that certain things will simply be unforgettable. This post takes me back to yesteryear, and in a way, it was sort of fun? Even if the outcome was me being inevitably shattered by the end, there was a gnawing feeling of curiosity that had overcome me at the age of twenty. I wanted to be familiar with it —the free fall, the rush, even the slight satisfaction of gaining somewhat of an upper hand. I wanted to be irresistible, and if this could boost that shimmering limelight I had somehow found myself spotlighted by, why not? So, when I tell you that this was a strange, yet dangerously new feeling… I...