Why do we think of time in linear terms? Is it really? I am not sure. But I don’t believe in time very much for that matter. Except that, it can be useful to refer to events that might have happened in what we like to call as our past.

We have so much stuff that we hide everywhere. In our past. In our lockers. Under our beds. Inside safely placed boxes. Inside the memories of people we trust. Inside our very own minds. And everywhere else where things can be hidden.

Give someone a penny and you lose it and that person has it now. Share an idea with someone and you both have it and can do whatever you wish to do with it. Share a secret with someone, however, and even though you both have it now, what you do with it is what you’ve decided and the other person has to obey. And in the ideal world that’s what anyone does. How do you decide what secret to share with whom? It’s a difficult thing to break down in points and explain. It works more with intuition. When you feel like you have to give it out. You can’t keep it inside of you any longer. Or perhaps, you met this stranger and you feel so comfortable that you want to build a bond out of it by sharing secrets. I’ve always found it easier to share my secrets with people I have just met than with people I have known for a long time. I think that is because with these people I don’t have a “past” to associate good or bad memories with. It is very much like painting on a blank canvas.

But there are always things that I can never share with someone despite the newness. The issues that I think I have with myself. The way I like to think of myself and so desperately wish that people do the same. They beliefs I have developed all these years that not many might understand. The things I wish to have but I never admit even though I always claim to have a list of and know what I want from life. The vanity and pride that makes me seem so arrogant at times, it physically hurts to know people can’t understand why I act that way. The rose that I keep hidden and protected in the memory of a loved one even though it’s not red. The gifts I’ve bought thinking so much of someone, that I can’t find a use for them when they were not accepted and now are kept sacredly hidden but still ready to be given with the same intent that they were bought with. Those never-ending letters written to express feelings that can only be vaguely determined by reading them but were never sent off. Those good night and good morning kisses that never were given away. Those books that were never read to or heard from that special someone. Hundreds of pictures never shared. Thousands of notes never read. Millions of unexpressed feelings in vain. Billions of thoughts full of pain. So many silent whispers and so many hopes of joy. Longing but not sad, the heart never cries. It goes on without heaving a sigh. Waiting hopefully, as time goes by.

I am so sleepy now its worse than being drunk. I haven’t had to sleep since the last 32 hours or so. And I am sure I might regret publishing this later but I don’t live in the future. I live in the NOW. And this goes out to you now. Yes. You know who you are.