I know alot now, I am older. And yet I quite easily miss the younger version of myself, the girl who dreaded upon sharp objects and assumed courage to be woman with a gun in her mind, but was atleast unaware, of what pain and tragedy really felt like. But then I wish I could put my arms around that little girl, and tell her that she is so brave and so kind. That even when a dozen pair of eyes and words, fails to notice the crumbling personality and a torn up paper crown on her head. She will never be nothing. She will always be everything, everything.
I wanted you to feel the happiness I felt; the life I felt when I sat on the sand and drew your name as each time the wave resurrected to its core. I did so many things, met so many people and had so many photographs taken in places I went and breathed with my arms held high. And I know, you were never there in any one those moments. But still I pranced around in my coral blue shoes and touched the walls and windows of every house on the streets I walked, believing that maybe someday day you will come to these streets and place your hands on these stones. I dipped my feet in so many rivers, wondering if you would also touch this water with the tip of your toe and feel that fleeting sensation of happiness. And I never cried, since the day you disappeared without a remorse or a courtesy for the life you left behind. I never felt sorry too, but then I did miss you. For my ghost had once loved your ghost, and somehow, even when you are long gone, your ghost still finds its way back to my ghost. And I don’t know is this should be love or just a figment of my world that will soon fade away like you .