Nostalgia Engulfed...

She had this way of living in the past, that's what he always said, didn't he? "Why are you living in the past? It's like you are obsessed with everything you had but lost." She couldn't disagree, the polaroid camera in her hands was proof enough. She trudged on, looking for things that caught her attention - a tiny squirrel, a disoriented puppy, clouds that made the day feel gloomy. She had become so attached to the pictures she had taken over the years, her room showed more pictures than walls. It was like she didn't want any moment to run away, like catching butterflies. She felt the inside pocket of her jeans, still there, tattered from the multiple failed attempts of tearing it apart. The first polaroid. It was the only picture she had with him. Of him. He gave her photography, an eye for details, an obsession with moments. He had lost someone. Someone he could never get over. He made up for it by trying to capture everything that touched him. He pa...

"Are you a mountains or a beach person?" "Mountains." I loved the mountains. I loved the green, long, winding roads with me and my friends in a car. I loved traveling to the apex and feeling like being on the top of the world. I loved the ear-pop games the altitude played with me.  I loved the adventure that the mountains always stood for, beckoning from high above, tempting to be discovered. I always did things I had never done before. I looked forward to these firsts. Sometimes I went to watch the same movies twice or thrice, but does that really count? I went on long walks. I spent nights just blabbing away with friends. I took 3 am bike rides across the city. I talked to people. Finally. And I couldn't stop. I loved wine, and a good ol' girls' night out. I loved my roommate, who dressed up to work and made me do the same. I loved the late night musings on a balcony with a cuppa coffee in one hand. I loved gaming arcades and how my friend cheat...

I stare at the words in front of me that I've highlighted but failed to comprehend. I know this is important but my brain cannot fathom why. Instead, it takes its voluntary infamous trips to the past, it digs out memories I hate but those that define me. These memories are like popups, my brain has this ability to find out things that would trigger my current state - statements from the past, feelings from the archives. Maybe everyone is like that, maybe that's how they punish themselves, for what though, I fail to understand. My laptop is at 2%, I am too lazy to find the charger. I want to curl up and sleep. But I also want to think about that one time when I said I could never compare to her because she was too beautiful. "So pretty he can't take his eyes off her", is what I believe I'd said. And apparently, at 1 am in the morning, this is what I want to think about. "But let's not talk about such things okay?" Okay. But how do I...