A million stories

I don’t remember this moment. Maybe, I was a little drunk. Or maybe, I was too afraid to remember it as it was that I made a fictional story about it in my mind. I remember standing right besides the turbulent water. I could feel a cold breeze flowing around me, that for a second there, I forgot who I was and I could see the world as a whole. How we are just like these teeny tiny droplets of water or the mere dust in the air. It is fascinating how our lives are made up of small fragments and how this still carve the path of our lives just like these tiny water droplets do for the river. Like you are eating an icecream one fine day and it drops on your favorite sweatshirt, or how, after 10 years, you will not remember the name of the person who is a huge part of your life at the moment. Its magical how we all have treasured these moments that we spend throughout the day, throughout our lives, and how different it is, for each of us. It is distinctive, the only one of it’s kind. Each one of us has our own definition to it, peculiar. And you know what’s more beautiful? That maybe, just maybe, none of this is even real. And maybe we are all too scared to remember the moments how they were, that we all have stories about each one of them. And we’re carrying all these stories inside our heads, gracefully, for all our lives. Just like that.