Diary of a Lost Wanderer: To know the unknown

By



Dear Diary, 

Yet another day – today! Life continues to move on with a renewed speed every day while I am kind of stuck in the same old rut. It is said that the first relationship a child makes is with the mother from where he/she learns the basics of existence like love, trust and respect. And a failure in this relationship is what reflects what the child is going to face in future with all other relationships till he/she takes the reins into their own hands. Perhaps that is why I am still not able to trust anyone, after my mom broke my trust long ago. And maybe that’s why my life resembles an eternal quest of those very three things which have been missing in my life – love, trust and respect. 

I kept loving and trusting the wrong people expecting to be loved, trusted and respected in return but every time I failed I blamed myself for my little heart never grew up. It continued to seek approval from everyone I met the way I used to as a child who was just learning to tread on the rickety paths of life. 

http://www.positivelyalene.com
There are many times I wish I had a normal childhood and then at times my heart asks my mind – What makes you think you didn’t? At least till the age of 10 you had a normal childhood and there are pictures to back that statement up. Birthday parties, picnics, festival celebrations… there are in all sizes and moods and still every time I began to think about my childhood after a certain age I am all blank, sounds weird I know but it is as if I was always born as a grown up child of almost 8-10 years. 

I don’t have any memories of playing with my friends or for that matter even their names or faces. In emotional healing they always ask you to relive some moments of life so many times that the hurt associated with it just goes away, why is it that every time I think of them the hurt just seems to become deeper. They say that if your mind has wiped off some memories there is something in them which you don’t want to remember. And that is what scares me at times, what is that I want to forget? (Sorry! That should read – What is that I have already forgotten?) 

Consciously I don’t ponder on it but during some long lonely nights this question gnaws me to death. My soul bleeds that night but there are no answers found ever. Maybe I will take some of these questions and their answers to grave, for they will always remain safely buried within me. 

Confused 
Myra

Popular posts from this blog

Essay: How to mourn the loss of love?

By
Image
Image Source: Unsplash.com I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven.  For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life.  I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time.  That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. 
Keep reading »

Diary of a Lost Wanderer - Lost & Found

By
Image
Dear Diary, I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then.  If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place. The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 
Keep reading »

Metro Diaries: The Art of Making Love

By
Image
Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro) “Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer.  I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity.   “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.”   “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” 
Keep reading »