To future conversations

So what do you like to write? I've been asked that. And the question changes every time. What would I like to write would be great, beautiful simple poems like Robert Frost or Tolkien. Poems for every thing, road poems, walking poems, funny poems, story poems or just simple friendly poems. But then when it comes to what I can actually write. It's this. Flowing words of long sentences with paras and paras. Poems with rhyme scheme come once a year (If i'm lucky then twice) and I cherish them like my old well worn clothes and books. Like Halley's comet.

Rest of the time is trying to say what I really feel without actually trying to put it all out. Sort of a trying to act without really acting. In the acting world it's called being subtle. Method acting. In normal world it's call being strong. In my head it's called

trying to save face and say things without sounding too melodramatic. But saying them nevertheless.

You know, and this part is actually like a conversation which has replayed in my head with several of my friends in the last one month. But I haven't actually said it out aloud to them. I'll write it now. In the hopes that when they read it, they laugh and remember.

"It's strange how at 22- 23, we find all of our lives changing, re changing, shifting, adjusting, never the same and refocusing back again. Like grains of sand finally blowing away to reveal the pictures underneath. Which keep on changing from time to time. I know when I look back, I'll remember in glossy effect, the endless conversations, inspirational snippets from songs, random drinking nights, support nights, bitching nights, overeating binges, manic moods and panic ones. I'll remember the hopeful plans and the expressions, the clothes and the colors, the dreams and the words, how stupid we were to pin our hopes on one person. And how wrong we will be when we find out how things will eventually work out and we'll all look like fools then. How we all were at this point so caught up in our own individual sadness's and troubles that we forgot to live. And eventually how we said fuck it and we tried to live, to get out of it. In whatever way our 23 year old selves told us to live. To forget. To be strong and

move on. How this point seemed like the start and end of the whole thing. The focal point. The period between growing up and growing up too fast and holding onto being 20 or 21 and secretly to 18. I will remember all of this and laugh and maybe go back to sip my coffee and raise a mental toast to everyone. These are tough times indeed. For everyone. But we outgrew them. Till the next time. Till the next sessions."

I wanted to say a lot more but at this point, my sister and my mom interrupted me twice thus ending the whole flow of words. And besides I have a sneaky feeling that my friends probably won't even wait for me to say all this. Not at one go atleast.