Dusting the old albums...

I sat today dusting and opening a plethora of emotions hitherto untouched, or at least undisturbed for over eight years now. It was a weird feeling. Like visiting a friend without whom life seemed incomplete at one point and suddenly you have not been in touch with each other for years and yet find that life moves on perfectly smooth but for that one small-tiny-teeny-weeny void.

Funnily enough, I ran into one such friend last week. We were great together a decade ago (coincidentally when this blog was a lot more active). Midnight conversations, random coffee breaks to be able to catch up with each over the phone and a lot more… It was initially butterflies in the stomach (for me), the warm gushy feeling (that you can only understand when you think of your adolescent crush), and then we lost touch. Rather, I chickened out because I was not too sure of where this was heading. I just stopped talking to this guy. Disconnected. WHAM!

Suddenly 10 years later, he popped up like a jack out of the box. It was like those 10 years never existed. Or perhaps even what was there before those 10 years also never existed.
It was like meeting someone for the first time. The man and my (now) man got along like a house-on-fire and that was that. No more of how I was all those years ago, or how he was all those years ago. It was like amnesia. Like a denial. Like disconnect.

And that is how I feel about my blog. A blog on which I used to post every day hoping that he would read — and comment. He did. And it is now the past. The present and the future I shall embrace now.