The Wind that Wanders

To wander is to be alive.

There and back again.

There is a pile of deadlines waiting to be met; and here is my procrastinating self in the dire need of creative self-expression and catharsis.
The fact that I recognise these patterns is a sign that I should steer clear of pen and paper and keyboard, yet here I am, sitting in front of the computer trying to rationalise, why I shouldn’t control my urges.
Let’s not kid ourselves, we procrastinators, use this self-expression only as a distraction to not do the actual task at hand. But, let’s also not forget, that this peculiar situation of ours has given birth to the most beautiful pieces we have ever written/art we ever created.

Another reason is that I have a real story to write today. It is not something that I made up; rather, it is something that came to me. Although I was reluctant at first, I eventually welcomed it with open arms.

Now that I have successfully rationalised my need to procrastinate, let me get to the point.

A few weeks ago N and I were talking about our childhood and the places we lived. The conversation left us wondering where our childhood friends were, and we did find a few online- via her social media.
Fast forward to last Friday, one of my childhood friends, who also happens to be N’s friend on Facebook messages her asking about a photo she had clicked, and slowly the conversation leads to a seemingly innocuous inquiry about my wellbeing; and him casually mentioning that I one of his earliest childhood friends. Before I could intercept her response, N quickly replied to him that I had asked about him too, recently; and I too have happened to mention that we used to be friends. He went ahead and asked if I was on Facebook( referring by the nickname that only a few are allowed to use)/WhatsApp to which she responded negatively. His curiosity had intrigued me and I told her to give him my Instagram profile. Soon he DM-ed me on Instagram.

Regardless of my doubts that he may be friends with my college mates with whom I have cut all ties, I went ahead and talked to him. When I reconnected with him, it felt like I was reconnecting with a part of myself that was long lost and forgotten. It was nice to retrieve a fragment of my childhood memories.

In the past couple of days, I have been able to recollect a few more things from my childhood. Some of them were so horrible and traumatic that they left me sleepless for a night, reliving the bad memories. But I have to admit, some of them were warm and fond.

I also realized that most of the good memories have been lost over the years, and the worst ones kept accumulating. Now, I have to decide which memories to let go of and which ones to hold on to.

And I choose the good.

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