Monologues of the mind

Annoyance

I look back on old memories fondly, but with annoyance.
Annoyance because I didn't truly appreciate how great life was; with a plethora of friends, less weight and more times when all I felt was happiness, a feeling that strikes a sense of nostalgia in me.

When every lunchtime was our own kind of paradise inside a mandatory hell, unaware of judging eyes and rumour-filled mouths; instead of now, where the hell has washed out any joy, and lunches are filled with soulless screen watching, broken up only by the routine action of looking over your shoulder, for fear of potential back stabbings from knife-wielding "friends".
When time flew by, like that of a falcon chasing after its next meal; instead of now, when time is more of a plump pigeon wandering over to unsuccessfully pick at the ground, scraping an already empty barrel of worms.

I wish that I could turn the time, go back to the past, and re-live it, but better. To not seek to be different everyday, but instead be comfortable in the life I led.
Spend more time laughing rather than arguing.
Spend more time having fun together rather than causing drama.
Spend more time building bridges rather than burning them.
Spend more time with them rather than myself.
Spend more time making good memories over bad ones.
Because now?
The curtains are drawn, the seats are empty and the lights are turned off.
The avid audience that once so desperately sought after my tales now seek more interesting stories elsewhere.
The show that was my youth, my childhood, my chance to live while I was young is over.
No more showings.
No more encores.
It's too late.

Can't help feeling annoyed at yourself, can you?