Going home!

You walk the street you have taken all these years to leave, to get away. Only this time you're coming back home. You remember the first time you walked here. The first time you came to this place, how the lanes looked, how many shops were there, and the way the sun shone the rain-washed roads. You think about the fresh feeling of the place back then, and wonder how you got used to it so easily, how it became such a common thing so soon. But it's been years.

You walk through the old gate, rusted over the years, but looking as fine as ever with it's recent coating of paint. You think about all those days when you waited by it early in the morning for the school bus to arrive. And you think of all those days when you got back from school to the welcoming openness of it. You walk over the tiled pavements with trees towering over you on the sides, their leaves falling over the gray concrete. You admire the contrast, and wonder how you had ignored it all these years. The array of cars parked, showing off their bright colours, the stone-laid stairs, the old wooden door. You think of all the years of having these things right in front of you, but never really admiring them. You linger outside your door for a moment, just absorbing everything around.

You wonder how, a year ago, you had just waited for a chance to leave. How you wanted to get away from the same old, dull, boring life. You think of everything you just crossed and wonder how anyone on earth could call them 'monotonous'. But then again, you had spent 10 years here. It was bound to get a little repetitive. You think of your new life now. What a change it had been back then and what a drag it is now. You had left to catch a break, and yet now, you're back here for a weekend, doing the very same thing. The irony makes you laugh, and you don't know why. Maybe you're losing it. It doesn't matter.

You think that this is how it's going to be. You're always going to find this place refreshing and beautiful, even though you had lived here a really long time. You only appreciate it now, when you come here on a few weekends. Now, you'll never call this place boring and monotonous. You can never get used to it in a few days. So now you'll love it even more. Every moment of it. But there's still a tiny voice inside you, wishing you'd never left it in the first place.

Two days later, it gets it's answer. You're bored of the same old trees staring back at you. The same old gate, same old people. Same old, Same old, Same old. And you wonder why you missed it so much. Did you really miss anything at all? You were all over the place and now you're sitting in a corner, alone, and thinking. It's not like you're unhappy, it's just that you don't know how you went back to feeling like what you did before you left home, in just two days. Are you going crazy, or are you plain confused? Or is it normal to feel like this?

I guess you'll just have to get used to it.

random thoughts :)

It's a little unnerving how everything you do, observe, or experience, every moment actually goes a long way into making you the person you are.

I mean, if you knew that right now, this very moment, whatever it is that you'redoing, or whatever you're thinking would go on to define you, would you continue doing it?

Do we really even have a say in the matter? Do we construct our lives around our moments and just go along with the flow of it all, building a life and a personality while we'r at it? Or is it the other way round? Do we, at some level, know that we'reshaping our minds, and not just our lives and act accordingly?

Some say that our personalities, our characters, are already built.You just acquire it in parts, as you grow. It's like opening levels as you move forward in a a game.

Probably then everything is already planned. All you experience, everything. They're just hurdles you cross to earn you a little piece of mind (pun intended :P) Or maybe it's stuff you take along, to help you handle the new developments in your mind as you unlock another level.

Whatever it may be, you can't deny the fact that it is one hell of a journey. An incredibly mixed up journey with even more twisted and mixed up emotions and memories. And in your whole quest to 'find the truth', you're only going to realize it in the end. And by then you're too old to care.

And you just have to deal with it, whether it is 'written' or whether you write it.

So you might as well play around with the ink a little :)