Some day in Feb '10

Being by yourself can do weird things to your mind. Besides wondering what to do next, you find yourself often being sucked into the past. People, moments, thoughts, incidents. And if there's any particular song, which meant something back then on the playlist, then the roller coaster ride is guaranteed. It's like a pause in a life playing in fast forward. 

I am still stuck in Step 3. Being more than 2 weeks since I studied spanish. Tengo que aprender mas espanol pronto.

I wish I was paid a rupee everytime someone had "Give me some sunshine, give me some rain, give me another chance, I wanna grow up again" status messages! And invariably, they'd be a couple of folks who'll 'like' this status. What's wrong with people? Was their growing up so fucked up that they'd wanna do it again...or mebbe it was so awesome, that they'd live it again?!

When I think about my past...I am so fine with it. There's no part I wanna do again. I just want those people who were part of it then to be part of my life forever. I've been doing some serious reading lately...and atleast started on "Learn all religions" journey. It's so simple man...God made it so simple for us...and yet we choose to complicate things. But yeah...it's tough to be simple. To be honest and good.

I also learned something more in the last 2 months. How crisis can show a person's true colors. How much resentment and angst people keep within their hearts for years together. How those pent up feelings show up suddenly and wash away so much with them. They leave behind trails of feelings and relations destructed. But then, we humans have a wonderful attribute of forgiveness. All may then seem hunky dory...but its not. A broken mirror can never do away with the crack, no matter how well its fixed. It's all parked somewhere in the mind, to be brought up when the next opportune moment arrives.

I often try to forgive, though I seldom forget. That's a burden of a different kind.

Bah. That was one long blue post. I wanna go for a long walk now.




© Z.

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