Probably you will blow me away like a dying Eskimo, tag me as blasphemous, but it is uncanny how I can quote either or both whenever I find myself in a need or urge to quote. Silent or blaring out loud.
So, a few hours ago I managed to finally write a micromini blog and publish it. And as it is always a pleasure to fight sleep if you do not have an impending exam to study for, I sat up and started reading all my old posts, and comments on them. And though whatever is in the present is wonderful in its own incompleteness, the tiniest of moments that we have lost in feeling discontented will never come back to soothe us with its partiality.
Perhaps life is beautiful in those broken dreams, desires unreached, love unrequited.
When I lived the DDLJ, KKHH days in a red brick building, I wondered at nights, if at all were my crushes to materialize (unlike anybody else's), how would it to be? The end. I would have no chocolate boy to fall asleep to, no bouts of extra-rowdy scuffles to fight away nervous bursts during lonesome meetings, no sugary fantasies of 'what-if's', no shivers to live-relive-rerelive if my hair was pulled or cheeks were pinched.
It is disappointing to grow to your quarter life and realize that the crisis involves feeling too old to develop bubblegum-boy-girl infatuations and too sincere to flirt.
Khushboo jaise log milein afsane mein.
