closure.

I read those old mails I sent and received back when I used gmail to actually keep in touch when D was vacationing abroad rather than for FP review alerts, school stuff and scanned notes and all that. The mails, chats and FB albums are all traces of the summer of ’08, the summer of FB, the summer of gtalk, the summer when those amazingamazing moments could be recorded like it never had been before.

The notes, doodles and phone numbers scrawled in my French books (for I’d taken my first French class then as everyone else had things like IIT coaching, I wanted something too), the saved chats and everything that imprinted that time used to give me pangsandpangsandpangs as that was one summer that seems picture perfect now as I had been in my element then, full of confidence that was temporary and sudden.

That summer paved way to new beginnings as I threw it all away and switched schools that June. I used to think it would’ve been easier if I hadn’t but I don’t think so anymore. That summer was convenient but there were awkward moments airbrushed from my memory (actual cringe, worthy moments with A ohmygodohmygodcrap and Pr‘s bday).

But All I can remember is the laughing, constantly texting B, K and P, the evenings at the beach, the hints of a crush I hid till I spilled it all to P who actually kept it to herself which I’m eternally thankful for, moments with my family, staying up till 3 chatting with D as I couldn’t sleep how much ever I tried, roaming around CV with P and listening to Imogen Heap (Useless, Speeding Cars) and Panic!AtThe Disco (Lying Is The Next Best Thing..) and falling asleep while reading Fountainhead and waking up to continue where I drifted off, devouring the moist and crumbly chocolate cake and chocolate mousse after French.. They were all unexplainably beautiful and are like shiny, perfect Kodak moments in my head.

Yet, as I finished reading those mails I started reading the chats with S and C right after the Summer of Perfection, my first friends in my new school. Exchanging music, talking about the randomest stuff, actually getting each other’s weirdass references.. moments that had slipped from my mind. Would life have been the same without them?

It’s funny how the pangs have vanished. How D and I are still as close as we were and how maybemaybe it’s even better now as there have been amazing moments after that all scattered which I have overlooked.

It took a random Sunday Morning to get this but I’m happy it did. I feel at home with who I am, where I’m at now. I feel okay being awkward and shy and whatever. No more I Don’t Know Who I Am and I Don’t Belong In This Sucky World Anymore. I think, I hope, I guess.

circlesneverend.

I’m listening to Sleeping With Ghosts by Placebo right now. That one song was my muse for half a novel years ago and it’s weird hearing it after I’d played it over and over again years back till I got sick of it. It doesn’t sicken me anymore, surprisingly, but it sounds as hauntingly amazing as it did in the beginning.

It’s songs like these, TV Shows like The OC and books like A Walk to Remember, Gone With The Wind and Fountainhead that  are responsible for my romanticized notion of life as they make everything sound so beautiful: love, hate, self-destruction, everything. It isn’t though. Life is more like this circle of bullshit, like, maybe A Catcher in The Rye.

I loved that book as well but reading it was torture, though disturbingly beautiful torture at some places though my head ached at others. Life’s like Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld which I couldn’t put down but every page filled me with dread as I knew where it was leading. We’re all doomed. Everything’s balanced. Misery is canceled by happiness but that in turn is balanced with misery. It feels like this endless circle and moving in circles, we all end up dizzy and ditzy.

maybe

It’s been a while but nothing’s really changed. I’m exactly where I left off. That’s confused, spoilt, depressed, unsure, pathetic in the high’s aren’t that high yet the low’s aren’t that low either way. The same issues persist and I continue to embarrass myself easily, not think when I talk and just fail at being a human being (‘the social animal that craves for companionship’) basically.

But spending the whole of today kind of experiencing the same and more made me realise that maybe that wasn’t a big deal.

Especially when I spent the whole day writing, watching TV, texting until it started raining… Going out and getting drenched…smelling, tasting and taking in the dampness and the coldness the rain provided, which I lived for.. Listening to Taylor Swift’s Fearless, my guilty pleasure and watching Sonny With A Chance, another guilty pleasure followed by Friends and chit-chatting till I returned to the unpleasant Bio work I had pending.

It was sort of comforting in a warm, fuzzy predictable way. It wasn’t corny or amazing but it was enough. It is enough. I can live with this.