Followers

Thursday, August 9, 2012

when we become strangers.


I am particularly good at hoarding. And no, not because those things are of use to me, but rather the memories they hold, the moments embedded in them. And this habit, more often than not, pains me more than pleasures me. I guess the reason I attached myself to memories are because they are the only things that remain constant, unchanged, whereas people do change. So I treat them as time capsule, buried them deep. When I felt that the world is more cruel than it already is, I retreat to those moments, build a sanctuary out of them, so that the world and everything in it won't hurt me. I slowly became prisoner of my own past, not because I couldn't find the keys, but rather I am scared that the world beyond the prison is much worse than being behind the bars.

But perhaps I was wrong.

The world has so much to offer. And yes, I admit that my life is currently not going the way I've always planned it to be. I do envy them sometimes - other people whose life plan collides with what God plans for them. That somehow, as if by a slip of fate, the way they plan their life correlates with what God has written for them. Amazing, isn't it? But because I am not one of those people who have the privilege of having a plan that magically matches with what God has planned for them, so it's difficult really, to see that His plan is greater than mine, because I am so full of myself sometimes. Well most of the times. Who would want to admit that they are wrong? But I do believe that God is right. That whatever He decides for me is right. And trust me, belief is a powerful thing.

Today I am less of a hoarder that I used to be. I packed up few things, burnt another few more, and save some of them. Not to hold me back, but more to remind myself of who I am, and was. So that the next time the world comes charging towards me with all the pain in its hand, I wouldn't simply lock myself in that sick prison. Because one thing I learned - happiness won't be found in a locked cell, hidden from the world.

If you are reading this one day, know that I have stopped borrowing the equivalent of you from other people around me. I find that there is no need to protect myself against you anymore and the gravity of pain that your memories could inflict. I want you to be happy with the life you have chosen. Because I am finally happy with mine now. I really am. We just grew up, and later grew apart, that's all. So one final thing I want you to do for me is to remember me. You don't have to miss me, that would be too much. Just remember me as someone who has been in your life once. And maybe, just maybe, if we passed by each other in the future, we could be strangers with shared memories.


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