A certain sadness always haunts me. A sadness of time going by very quickly and the awareness that comes with it.
It causes a certain anxiety of losing out, being pushed back ward and sense of losing hold on time. Guess even I am scared of getting old.
Back when I was 16, I used to partially date this girl and something she told me still somewhere deeply resonates within me. She told she never wanted to get old and wanted to die before 30.
That left me shocked. And I asked her, what did she mean by that. She told me Old Age is full of horrible stuff. I didn’t dare ask her further. Being 16 at that time felt old enough, as it is and I didn’t want to know further.
And now as I grow older, I realise that it isn’t that horrible because this is what the world is all about and you can only do your best.
But I do miss the innocence. Even today, I reach out to memories where I am 10- 12 years old and would think the rain was such a magical wonder.
One of the memories I go back to are the ones where I sit all alone, watching the rain fall for hours.
An unpolluted memory where the rain bought warmth and with it undiluted happiness.
Guess the thought of growing older is strange. The more I age, the more I yearn to turn back time.