Today when I was chatting with my friend she wanted to see my room, I took some snaps of my room and shared with her. My room was a mess.
She asked me to clean that shit; I was not in a mood; but in some corner of my mind I too wanted things to be tidy and clean. I started to clean up..
I wonder why we have story for every single thing we have in our room. Some are cute things some broken things, some unwanted things, what ever we have with us we have a story written on it :)
I started with my book collection, I was too proud of that collection, and I remember how each of those books got there, how much time I took to finish them, Like the book I borrowed from my friend and never gave it back; like the one I got as my birthday gift from my mom.
I took each of them in my hand arranged them properly talked to them :) It's really nice to talk with our old pals :)
The next part was the hardest, actually I didn't had to go through that, I could have skipped it. But pain of self realization was that what my soul asked.
My dairies, some mementos, writings.Notes of days I need and needn't remember. I have never thought of removing those with bad memories , cause all of these made me what I'm.
I assure I was not a model person. I did wrong in my past, many times; I do regret all those and I'm pretty sure that regretting or feeling pain thinking about that won't do anything good for those who are wounded cause of me.
I never prayed to heal the pain in my heart; all I prayed was to heal those souls I wounded.
That broken ring has a story of limitless love, That greeting card says a story of first love, That dairy note has a story of unknown love, another greeting card which bears the story of cheating, Those unwritten dairy note of hide the story of being cheated, Those autographs shouts a story of a man's man, those missing autographs weep thinking the story of misjudgment.
These all made me what I'm.
Oh god give me strength to strive forward to Life.