Nostalgia. Now. Dreams.

It’s been a different life, different few months. Months that has changed quite a few things. People ask me to describe this phase; it gives them sheer pleasure to indulge in such quiz for they know any answer would excite them. Sometimes the no. of questions are infinite if you allow yourself. There has been more than one instances where I have had close acquaintances with few where each of them came with a conclusion written or decided in between. Had my share of luck, love & happiness long way back, for quite a long time. Somewhere I couldn't muster the courage, interest & invest time for something ‘that’ serious after that era was over. I could not seize certain moments, I could not take that one extra step, I could not let go of my inhibitions. But past is past, no looking back, no regrets. But I have lived a lifetime with nostalgia. It is something that moves with me, it’s something I live with. I love it & hate it. All at the same time. Deep inside, there lives some ‘emotions’ which I am yet to define or understand.

Nostalgia is something that keeps me going, it is something I live with. It is insanely painful yet so real. It shows me a picture I can not detach myself from. It is my truth, those were my moments. I lived them with my own conscience. There may not be any ‘undo’ button, but I am also not finding any ‘repair’ button as well. I need it. May not be badly, but surely. I want to go back to ground zero. Home. Want to live with just those I know since I know myself. Don’t want new things in life, don’t need additions. Memories, in the form of nostalgia, takes me back years. Years, that I am not able to find now, times I am missing. Times I spent without any pre-conditions. Missing so badly that I want to go back and stay there. Never travel to future. For I know what future has in store. Yes, it has dreams, so many of them. I, as a person, have believed in them for the whole life. Now I realize, every dream comes true at a price tag. A tag too costly, a tag too materialistic.

So my search for myself continues. But I am getting tired, my patience is running out. Thick and fast. And I am getting old too. I know I have been impatient throughout my life, but that’s not a crime. It has paid me more often than not. It has shattered my dreams as well. But why do I need to do all these permutations, why do I need to do so much analysis? Writing is what gives me solace, that’s what I am doing, that’s what I can do and that’s what I am capable of. That’s what I will do.