My Diary's Page

There Used to be a Time…


There used to be a time when I’d attach myself to tiny little things around and never let them go. Now I don’t have them anymore but I miss them. When I see them, I want them back. Is that normal?

There used to be a time when if I spend more than 2 days with anyone (could be my cousins, friends, neighbors, cats), I’d cry for days after they’re gone. I’d have a lumpy throat all the time and remember the things we did together in different places, let it be kitchen, living area, garden, even sitting on the chair. Is that too much to miss?

There used to be a time when I’d buy something in 2 (pair) and give one to my favorite person. That person kept on changing, sometimes a roommate, a class fellow, my own sister, a friend, but I’d not let go of the habit. Was that too much of attachment?

There used to be a time when I wouldn’t let ANYONE touch my things, let it be a simple pencil moved from one table to another because it was just mine and nobody was allowed to touch it. I wouldn’t let anyone take my stuff. I’d give up gold for dolls, I’d cry for teddy bears and never shop for Eid clothes, was that too much of naiveté?

There used to be a time when I’d write my heart out and the only person supporting me would be myself but I didn’t care. It was my stuff, written from deep inside me, I was possessive about it but now I have forgotten it. Is that too much negligence?

There used to be a time when I’d care for people so much that I’d do anything for them, not caring about my personal stuff and would go to such an extent that later my thoughts would haunt me that those people might leak my secrets or harm me since I am that close but still would trust them, be ditched, trust them again, be used, yet trust them again. Is that too much of innocence?

There used to be a time when I’d just stare at a tree and imagine stuff that nobody could ever think of. I’d think of it as a human and talk to it, wonder what troubles it might have gone through and sometimes cry under its shade. Was that too much of association?

There use do be a time when I’d happily play basketball in rain, talk with the cats later on and didn’t care about what people would say around me. I’d sit on the bench, stare at the sky and be a happy person because the color up above would be beautiful. Was that too much of glee to reveal?

There was a time when I could hold on to my tears for years, I’d not show that I ever could cry. I’d been known the tiniest strongest person around, was confident enough to face and even beat the seniors in my school yet I’d not regret anything. Was that too much of energy?

There used to be a time and is still present when I associate myself with people around and give it a name of the relationship. Could be a friend from another country of the world and name her a sister, could be a colleague and name her a mom, could be a random stranger and I’d share my heart out and name her a sister from another mister. Is that too much of bonding?

I wonder, I shatter but don’t show. I’ve lost it all, yet I can’t see what’s being missed the most. It’s confusing so I rather stay quiet yet I can’t hide for long and say it, which in turn hurt me more because it doesn’t come out right. Where is it all gone? Why is that there used to be that time and now it’s not there anymore?

-Arsh

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