I feel weirdly sentimental now.
Is the passion we once held in our younger years all that we are? Though many of us move on, some just stay there, forever. The past turns into an identity, and one lives just to reminisce.
It's a tragic tale of growing up, leaving behind everything, even the joy of living sometimes. Yet these stories are beautiful in a way, I think that's because we all feel that same longing for the past, and for a what if future that is better, unlike the bleak present filled with dread.
I love Japanese's Mono no Aware and I think this might fit into the concept. However, to always remember the beauty of the past means neglecting the joy of living in the moment and the wonder that tomorrow can bring.