I Miss Being 17, But I Don’t Know Why

"Some ages don’t return. But they echo every time we pause."

Sometimes I sit alone and wonder why 17 hurts so much when I think back. It wasn’t a special year. I wasn’t in love. I didn’t win anything big. But something about it whispers back to me like a ghost of who I used to be.

Maybe it was the way I still believed anything was possible. Maybe it was the late-night walks with friends who felt like family. Or the songs that sounded like they were made for me.

There wasn’t pressure yet. No big failures. No career fears. No grief I couldn’t name. There was just… life. And I was living it without thinking too hard.

I miss 17 because it didn’t feel like the world was watching. It felt like mine. Like I had time. Like my choices didn’t have to mean something forever.

And I guess I’m writing this because maybe someone else out there misses an age they can’t explain. Not because it was great—but because they were still becoming someone back then.

And now, they feel like someone they don’t even recognize.

— Someone quietly remembering