So hard, it seems, to live your life
When your mind is in war with itself
One part of you, the popular, sweet one
While the other just sulks in the corner
A random thought makes you stay with people you know
While another makes you want to go mingle
You almost trip, make the same mistake again
But then someone comes up to remind you
You need not be like the other cookies
Some cookies are better when charred
Blank stares at blank pages,
No easy way to say this…
The next lines do not exactly apply to the situation, since
I am writing this of my own volition and no one is forcing me to write
something (That’s what they are making me say).
In a very short period of time, I will be leaving. For a new
adventure, they say. For independence, they cheer. For studies, they cry. All
of these apply to me and yet I am not ready for it.
I leave for my Masters’. It is such a great thing, a thing I
have been looking forward to for most of my academic life. However, with such
things, there is always something you do not want to face. For me, it is
definitely leaving my parents. I have been with them for all of my twenty-two
years. Leaving them makes me feel like a chick leaving the nest, ready to fly
on her own. She stumbles and falls, learning to fly, and then soars
beautifully. In that very long metaphor, I am the chick who the bird parents
will have to kick out of the nest so she can learn to fly by herself (Love you
guys!)
Apart from them, there are so many places here filled with
memories for me. My favorite coffee place, the grocery store down the road, the
photo studio man who always smiles, the thirteen minute walk to the bus stop that takes you to college etc. The list can go on and on.
And the people. Oh, the people! All my friends, whether we
played together as babies, or just started talking to each other a while back.
I would be missing all of them. Before you mention the clichéd (yes, it counts
as clichéd if you heard it about twenty times in the last month) Skype and
Whatsapp and how it is not like the old times when you had to trunk call
people, it’s not the same.
I would not be able to use college as an excuse to meet
people. Open the lift to find a friend who I haven’t met in a long time.
Running into your old friends at pretentious coffee places would be next to impossible.
My point after all of this angst is that,
If I have met you in the last month, thank you for making
time to meet me before I leave.
If we have not met, I am so sorry I did not reply or if you
were too busy. We always have Facebook.
If you did not know I was leaving on Sunday morning, you’re
not a close enough friend (I kid, sorry whoever you are.)
I shall try to be more frequent on social media sites other
than Instagram (I need to get a grip). I shall try to keep in contact with
friends despite the time zone. It is a two way street, though. Just ping me if
you want to talk, I will reply, albeit later, but I shall.
Somehow, I feel like I should write more. Discuss the books
I am leaving behind, talk about the hangouts I would miss, describe everything.
If I would read this post two years later, I would have picture-perfect
memories of these places because of this post. However, I do not think that is
wise for my psyche right now. (No, I am not crying. Yet.)
Right now? This is the usual scene at my place. Everyone is
at their laptop or mobile phone in the living room. Some song plays in the
background. We give each other company, and give them space to do their thing
as well.
The difference? Three suitcases sit right next to the couch.
My throat is slightly choked as I write my blog post. A check list lies next to
me. A neck pillow, just waiting to be worn.
I hope when I do read this two years later, I am not so
different that I do not identify with who I am as I write this post. See you on
the flip side!
