After a very, very long time I had the chance to get the entire stack of my diaries and notebooks out to clean up the shelves. Needless to say, it was quite amusing to see almost 8-10 years of my life, all collected in little piles.
I couldn't help but sit and start going through them.
One by one.
Page by page.
Goodness!
So many emotions.
So many memories.
So many people who have blurred out of my life and so many who have stayed and yet are hardly recognizable in their present souls.
So many memories, incidents, and experiences.
It was quite overwhelming to see everything that life had given me.
So many happy moments and so many not so happy ones.
They have all been a part of the journey and all have made me who I am, and yet, as much as I tried to honor and respect them all for what they were at the time they existed, I couldn't help but feel that some of them were a total waste of emotions and time.
That sounds equally childish to you as it feels to me, and yet I can't help but feel that I could perhaps have gotten better moments had I not been so blinded by feelings, ideals, ideas of creating utopia, and baseless faiths.
Well. If it weren't for those experiences I wouldn't have the maturity (Don't laugh. I know I still have a long way to go but am learning!) that I hopefully have now.
Theoretically, I understand and maybe even appreciate.
And yet, practically, I cant help but feel why on earth I would have squandered my precious confidences.
Its also quite funny how my own emotions have changed and morphed - sadness and pain, to anger, then to frustration, and finally, to nothingness. Happiness, to memories, to mere little tingles, to nothingness. Some incidents were even out of my memory's reach now, and if not for my diaries I perhaps might not have thought of them ever again..
I pictured myself, 50 years from now, hopefully alive with all my faculties intact, reading them again on an empty afternoon. Or perhaps sharing it with some other people. Would I laugh? Cry? Or not feel anything at all?
We all seem to go through similar journeys. We all seem to go through similar lessons and feelings and experiences. It is sort of comforting to know that I am not alone, and also quite saddening to realize that my condition is not as unique as I had thought it was.
Well :) It is all life, all a part and parcel of it.
At this moment, as I am caught in a dilemma about whether to keep all of the diaries or probably burn away a few awfully painful ones, all I find myself asking from life is not to keep me away from anything, not to take pity on me and spare me all that life has to offer and all that the condition of being born as a human has to show and reveal.
All I funnily find myself asking, is give me more, life!
Give me more of everything, enough to fill a million more diaries.
