Sentiment

Some things are just too easy to toss away. I was cleaning my room with gusto last night (adding to that some loud music, dancing in pajamas and an extremely rare moment of applying nail paint) and I filled two whole bags with crap which I had so carefully stored for years with some special sentimental value. And after all those years I casually tossed it without more than a second’s thought.

This, I think is the moment where you realise you have really, truly and completely moved on and though the memories with those persons you will cherish forever, you don’t need those memories stored in a box, and you’re better off without the sentiment. I’d prefer those memories were hidden inside my mind and within my control rather than jumping out at me when I’m hunting for an old hat at the back of the closet.

Does this casual tossing away imply that those years / moments I spent with the person meant nothing to me? Does the fact that I could toss it away mean the person didn’t have a special place in my heart? Of course not. Sure, it was special and it was painful. I’ve been loved and I’ve been wounded. And now that time has passed. Why ruin that with prolonged sentiments that make you go back in time to the flurry of emotions that the two of you couldn’t sort? Focus on your present, I’m sure it’s much more happening than the past we keep digging up.

I know what we had was special.  I won’t misunderstand. Just toss it out.

Don’t go too far

No, I don’t want him to be mine
But he goes and falls in love
As often as he does, which is often
And then I wish that he was mine

So I act all tough and indifferent
Till he realizes it’s me he wants
But there’s no way we’d say all this
Coz no, I don’t want him to be mine

If I did, one day I’d be distant
And there’d be no way to come back
So we just go on living this way
Hoping the other doesn’t go far

Rebel, just a little

There is a cult of rebels born in every generation. These are the ones whose very basic instincts make them defy authority, especially that of the previous generation.

It manifests at a very basic, domestic level. The parents object to a particular set of friends and you make it your agenda to hang out with only those friends, till your parents give up and accept there’s no harm in it, which was your point all along. You grow up a little bit and suddenly get all serious and committed at an age when others are still frolicking in frocks and going on mock dates. After years of quarrels and ‘This is just what I want in life’ and ‘Can’t you just be happy for me’ showdowns, finally everyone around begins to accept that this is how you want your life to be. And then, just like that, you decide you like it better when you are unpredictable.

On the outside you appear soft-hearted, composed and relaxed. Who could guess that you’ve played your part in breaking the heart of someone pure and innocent? Who could possible understand the turmoil underneath that calm, composed exterior? You prefer that the rebel in you is known to as few as possible, making sure that every time you rebel, you have the element of surprise working in your favor.

You struggle with the very definition of settling down. You hate it when the water is still for far too long, and after a while of quiet contemplation of silence and peace, you can’t resist the temptation of throwing in a few pebbles so as to see the ripples break that surface of unrelenting calm. You are always craving the thrill, the excitement, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

And then there are those who have that instinct to rebel but whose struggles never go beyond the caged structure of their own mind. These are the ones with higher potential and stronger instincts. But they are not free. The more they try to throw off the load on their shoulders, they themselves add a little bit more. It’s a structure within which they are bound, and all the rebelling falls just short of the boundary. They accept that their rebel power is limited only to the walls of their mind.

I don’t know if I’m free, but I know I belong to the rebel cult, and I don’t understand this half-rebel-half-contrite, structured existence. I don’t know if they’ll ever be free from this structure and I don’t know if you even need to get rid of this cage in order to lead a completely honest, happy life. Maybe freedom has nothing to do with structure and maybe it all does really come down to your choices. And in that case, what happens to the ones implicated by your choice?

Tell me what you think. Are you a rebel? Or do you believe that structure lets you live a stable, happy life?

Strangers

The good thing about strangers is that they don’t know you. With them, you can be anyone you want. Mix, match and throw on a borrowed personality, see how it works out. Go get wasted with a stranger.

There’s a time when you feel a layer of disconnect and discontent settling around you. Try as you might, you can’t seem to get through, can’t seem to convey what you mean. The sea of familiar faces feel like strangers. They don’t know you and never will.

We spend hours mulling over some person’s character, trying to read between the lines. We spend an entire lifetime searching, not knowing what we seek, not understanding, not recognizing who we really are. We’re all lost within the eternal quest to know ourselves, lost in the search for love and happiness. We don’t know exactly who we are and there’s always a part of us that remains unknown, unexplored.

We’re scared to put our trust in strangers when reality is that we’re strangers to ourselves.