Kiddo..

I’m finally writing about this… Where do I even begin?

Every little thing.. Everything about me today has a memory of you.. Or is it…my version of you..?

From the day we met, in that workshop to the day we parted, in that parking lot, you have been the most important image in my head.

Starting out to as friends, to become family and then dancing to fate’s tunes, only to become strangers once more.

Call it fate, call it karma, call it what you want but whatever brought you into my life certainly wanted to heavily leave a mark in me and to change me.

Well, whatever it is that brought us together is, in a child’s heart, something very cruel for it ripped us apart. Especially the way it did.. But we’re grown ups now, aren’t we.. We now see that in life, people come and go. We’re not kids anymore and so, we try and float with the flow.

The way someone comes into our lives, establish their importance and claim your love for themselves is just… I don’t know if I should call it amazing or atrocious… Yet, it happens. To all of us. And when they leave, they take away huge chunks of us and replace them with pockets of emptiness and we can try to deny all we want, acting all matured and everything..

But the child in us, the child that loved the child in them can never be kept quiet for too long. The inner child misses its companion and it cries out every now and then. We’ve come to call moments that remind us of the other child “triggers”. A convenient way to distance ourselves from our feelings, so cold and clinical. Yet, that keps us going, in this practical and cold world..

When the tiniest of these triggers can sucker punch you when you least expect them to, the pain of how you were hurt seems to become forgotten for a little while and you just miss the one you loved with all your heart. Just for a little while, like morphine till it wears out and that heart starts to hurt again, too much to let you sustain the good memories any further.

A sister.. a brother… a significant other.. a son, a daughter, father or mother… Family isn’t always bound by blood, yet in the end, blood always proves thicker than water. It does so, for it has no choice. That is how they exist, blood and water..

A sister…

True love is learnt through tough love. True pain is taught, not through heartache, but by denial of heart. The pain of never knowing if there ever was a heart or if it always only existed in your head.

Memories come through, in flashes of senses. You remember the image, the image never dies and this image is kept alive not just through sight, but through touch, smell and sound, even taste. So there really isn’t anywhere to go but to let the flashes go through you.

Karmic debts.. Till they are over, you can’t get rid of someone and once they’re done, you can’t keep them with you. Rnanubandhana. Gotta thank my fate for dropping these words in my life just before I might need them.

We all have such stories, such lessons and such memories. Good memories, bad memories… If you’re here today and are reading this, you know what I’m talking about. So just know that no matter how alone we are, we are never truly alone.

The truth is, even when we are alone, we are all alone together. Ironic, isn’t it?

Yet,

“Life is for living, machi.” – My memories of unconditional love

Image

Art courtesy: Original

So all we can do, is to live it to the fullest. Ups and downs are what make life alive after all. When you look back from your deathbed one day, if your life is a movie worth watching, happy or sad, you’ve done it right and that’s all that matters in the end.

Just…make your movie watchable, make it all count, yeah?

Also,

Image

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s