"The future is scary. But you can't just run back to the past because it's familiar. Yes, it's tempting... But it's a mistake ... " - Robin Scherbatsky

So I received a text from him today morning. And now I'll probably finally call him up and talk to him on the phone today evening.

Now the thing is, I do want to talk to him. No doubt about that. But I am afraid of what that phone call might trigger. I haven't talked to him in so long, and now suddenly, it's like old times again. What if that spark is still there? What if I haven't gotten over him in the first place? And I've only been thinking I have cos things have been so different lately...


And I've been going over and over this since morning. And I think I've finally understood what I'm so worried about. It's not like I ll feel that way about him again or anything. I do realise its stupid and impractical and will never really work, so its senseless to put myself through that again.


The reason I might start feeling that way is because being with him means I don't have to worry about being with someone else. Yes, I know it sounds stupid, but hear me out!

Ever since we broke up, I've lost that little comfortable place I used to run to every time things went wrong. I'm afraid of trying new things and taking chances. The very prospect of liking someone again terrifies me cos it won't work out and I'll end up unhappy. But when it comes to this guy, I knew pretty much where and how things will be. It's as if all this time I've been treading unknown territory, trying to make it by myself, and then suddenly I get the option of running back to a past I knew.

The future is unknown and unpredictable, and I don't have the slightest idea how I'll make it by myself. And that scares the hell out of me.And now, I'm afraid I'll run back to the past cos its familiar.
"Yes, its tempting,
But it's a mistake ..."

You won't be his first, his last, or his only. He's loved before, and he will love again ... But if he loves you now, what else matters ? He's not perfect and neither are you, which both of you will never be. But if he makes you laugh, at least once causes you to think twice, and he admits to being human and to making mistakes, hold on to him and give him all you've got. He's not going to quote poetry, and he isn't going to be thinking about you every single moment of every single day, but he will give you a part of him, that he knows you can break. Don't hurt him, don't change him, don't expect too much from him. But smile when he makes you happy, cry when he makes you sad, and miss him when he's not there with you ...

PS : I Miss You ..

I miss you when something really good happens, 

because you're the one I want to share it with.

I miss you when something is troubling me,

because you're the one who understands me so well.

I miss you when I laugh and cry,

because I know that you are the one that makes my laughter grow, and my tears disappear.

I miss you all the time,

but I miss you the most when I lay awake at night, 

and think of all the wonderful times that we spent with each other, 

for those were some of the best and most memorable moments of my life ...

Live the Dream ...

Have you ever woken up to the morning sunshine

And still not felt the warmth?

Ever felt that the fire you had inside

Somehow just got lost?

Do you remember your childhood days,

When dreams used to light up your way?

Did you grow up just to lose it all?

And watch it disappear in the haze?

Burying those times, as life moved on

You chose the beaten track

Missing out on what you want

Can you say you've never looked back?

So just this once, wake up to be who you want

And pave the path yourself

Dare to chase those dreams you saw

Bear a heart with no regrets

Let yourself fly azure

Above thriving fields and golden sands

And far above, feel the heavens bow

As you decide to take the chance

Live your life, live it now

Let your choices guide you

And let the inferno of your passions

Leave a blazing trail behind you...

~M

....

So I am finally going to have a blog entry that's not centered around my ntu life or my (non existent) love life. This one's about someone way more important - my grandmother. I lost my grandmother over a month ago, while I was still in ntu. For the first time in 20 years, I didn't get a call from her on my birthday. I thought I'd talk to her when I was back in Delhi, except it was too late by then.

If there's one thing I've always been afraid of, since the day I decided to leave for Sg, its a situation like this. I don't mind missing my cousins weddings, or the birth of my nieces and nephews - you get to make up for that when you're back. Four months really isn't that long. And there's always mobile phones and webcams and skype. But for something like this, you cant make up for it. Ever.
Had I known back in January that it was the last time I was meeting her ... well, I don't know, it would have been different.

I still remember those times when she used to wait for me at the bus stop. No matter the scorching heat or the peak cold, I could always see my grandmother's smiling face as I stepped down from my school bus.

And whenever I went to visit her, even before we reached, she'd be toiling in the kitchen preparing something special for her granddaughter who met her once in four months.
Don't get me wrong. I am glad she didn't suffer at the end. And given her precarious medical condition, I think its all for the best.

But it still gives me an empty feeling when I walk into her room or when I look at her photo in my drawing room. A feeling that makes me realise she's really gone. Makes me realise just how much I miss her ...

Happy Birthday ...

“... and somewhere in between all our long talks, and crazy jokes, and stupid fights, and random arguments ...”

The Innocence of a Child

I read this somewhere awhile back, and would love to share it with anyone who drops by my page !

The Innocence of a Child

"We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly eating and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, “Hi there.” He pounded his fat baby hands on the highchair tray. His eyes were wide with excitement and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin. He wriggled and giggled with glee.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man with a tattered rag of a coat, dirty, greasy and worn. His pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map. We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled. His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. “Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,” the man said to Erik.

My husband and I exchanged looks, “What do we do?” Erik continued to laugh and answer, “Hi, hi there.” Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby.

Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, “Do ya know patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek-a-boo.” Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk. My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence, all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. “Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,” I prayed. As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby’s “pick-me-up” position. Before I could stop him,Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man’s. Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love relationship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man’s ragged shoulder.

The man’s eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor-gently, so gently, cradled my baby’s bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time. I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms for a moment, and then his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, “You take care of this baby.” Somehow I managed, “I will,” from a throat that contained a stone. He pried Erik from his chest-unwillingly, longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, “God bless you, ma’am, you’ve given me my Christmas gift.”

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, “My God, my God, forgive me.” I had just witnessed Christ’s love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was a Christian who was blind, holding a child who was not. I felt it was God asking “Are you willing to share your son for a moment?”when He shared His for all eternity. The ragged old man, unwittingly, had reminded me, “To enter the Kingdom of God, we must become as little children.”