This time that changes….

​I guess time changes things…. but yes, I never could have imagined it would change the people around me to such an extent. Not the blood relations maybe, they remain kind of same because all of us know that they can’t be changed… but what about friendships, relations that we create for ourselves as we move forward…. They do change because those friends or well-wishers or whatever we may call them have a choice. Choice to stay or choice to leave… unlike relations, who even though being blessed with this choice, prefer not to choose them and amazingly the queerest thing about human emotions is that it cares far more for those relations than the blood ones, maybe, even after knowing that they might be temporary. Sad… isn’t it?

So, as I sit quietly, observing my friends and well-wishers and wondering what made them change so much, I just feel this hollowness. I smile at them, a fake one, to hide all that I have been feeling about them. How can I tell them that they have changed…? How can I ask them why they are treating me like this?

Yes, that does not mean I haven’t tried, I have, and the reaction shocked me even more than their behaviour. They just behaved like nothing even happened! Even though they didn’t laugh at me but their behaviour proved that I wasn’t wrong. Maybe I am reacting too much, thinking too much but who will not feel the need of knowing the purposes of people around us… after someone whom I thought would stay forever had already left me?

It seems just so justified… though I can’t rate it right or wrong but it is just the way I feel…I am sure you must have felt the same way at some point of time… isn’t it?

So as I said before… Is it me or is it you?

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Is it me or is it you?

It happens sometimes… Some memories are there, beautiful, yet now all they is make it all worse for us… Dont they?

We all have that. Too common for human beings. Everyday they come, remind us what happiness what meant to us once… And what they mean to us now. Makes us wonder, how life changed and how much we never wanted it to… Feelings sound too familiar? Is it that I am speaking or is it your heart?

I leave that answer… to you.

Now you will have to listen to me.. Would you like to?  So here we are, both of us sitting, heart taking us back to those days and mind, doing a lot of hard work to not allow you to… 

And what happens then, there are those few days of extreme pain and helplessness and then it becomes habit. Human nature to gradually adapt, to understand that some things are just meant to stay like that… You know those memories wont leave you, but the truth is you wont like them to, too dear for us to let it all go isnt it?

So we just keep them, our little treasure. 

And then we change, we start leading a dual life from inside… One part which lives in the past, loves it so much that it wishes every second for those days to return back…  The Other part which you show to everyone, everyday, which mayne doesnt give a damn to what happened, that “I dont care now”part,that I can live happily part…

 I cant say which part is right and which part is wrong because that would just be a wrong question. Instead, the right question would be…. Why two parts? Why when something happens to us so beyond our imagination, why does it divide us in two parts?

The sad thing is, I cant answer that question for you… It is a question which you need to answer… A question, to which I am still trying to find the answer for.. But this one answer is for meant for you all to find youself… 

Because that answer will help you, Find your own self.


So now the question is..

Is it me or is it you? Who was speaking just now? Was it me or was it your heart? I dont know that..

All I know is, Whoever it was, it will soon be back…. 

I need to search for words…

I am writing after a long time.
I often wondered to write something for others but I failed many a times because I no longer have words. I no longer have that determination to drive me to write, to create.

To be honest with myself, this blog of mine was meant to be an exposure of my emotions, a collections of teaching, what I kept on learning.
So that I could share all that with you, with a belief in my heart that I would be able to help some souls…

For people like us, lovers, broken-hearted people who are lost and confused, it is not passion, it is the emotions which drive us to write, to let our pens or hands..  Speak For Us.
And some of them, create history.

To be able to write your emotions, is a matter of courage, is a matter of fearlessness.
True strength is when you are no longer afraid of other people, of what they will think.

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And to live that moment, I wont ever give up...

I have often been called fake, a sympathy-gainer whenever I shared my emotions through my words…
Yes, maybe if I put my emotions in front of you, it is wrong. It is something which is mine, which is not meant to be shared. Yes, because when I share, some of the people among them feel Sorry for me, some of them just don’t care,  some of them feel I am stupid and fake, but..
My experience shouts to me, that there are some people, however few, who will go through the same situation as I went when I wrote my life openly. Yes, my writing would be 90% emotions but there maybe 10% which would be my lesson, my mistakes from which those few people might learn.
I write for them.

There would be a point in your life, when you will stop living for yourself and start living for others. That is what people call ” being in love. “

I don’t write much anymore though. I have forgot how to write poems.
Reason? 
No emotions to drive me anymore. No longer does my passion survives.
I don’t say I have lost emotions, that would be just philosophy and another expression for pain, on the contrary, now I have thousands of emotions but none, strong enough to give first flare to my fire.
I am just looking for a reason. For a passion, just like we all are looking for something so that everything could make sense.
We need each other to make it work.
Let us make it work.
Live for others, so that you can truly live for yourself.