Four Years Later: They Are Dead And I’m Not Thinking Enough

                      Four years ago, I happened to lose a good friend to a fatal road accident – and this is more or less a diary entry; someone, somewhere may just identify with this experience.


A lot happened after the day I, for the first time, experienced the feeling of losing someone who was around you when you went out for a coffee (whilst being in school, that was a privilege unheard of), or hung out for a considerable time of a random, good evening. Hollow the feeling as it could be, what is interesting to me now is that a lot has most certainly changed – and that sort of backs up a lot, formerly enticing a state of depressed behavior.

We tend to grow out of instances like the death of someone, may be not fully in some cases, but we do. There also came a time when I almost never thought about this aforementioned friend and when I did, I immediately felt guilty about being too self-absorbed and not caring about my dead friend more often – annoyingly, that time still persists. And I don’t think I should be the guilty party here. Post the death of my aforementioned friend in 2011, another close friend died in another fatal accident two years later and sort of limited my emotional base in case of deaths, which I now take as an inevitable natural process. Again, I tend to go through the entire guilt-tripping process of not thinking or caring enough for my now dead friends and the thought literally pulls your stomach apart.


I recently came across this television story of a celebrity getting together with another man, two years after the death of her then boyfriend – and such instances provoked me to think of how the society (ourselves) reacts in two ways; “good for her to have found love again” and “what a shame”.

HOPE (?):

I happened to speak with someone who has experienced the loss of a close one and guilt-trips as often as I do (rarely) and what we deciphered from the understanding of such an emotional condition is – we move on. The world which is inhabited by us humans and runs at the speed of flash for every little thing, along with new innovations and ways of mixing with another people in more then one way at the very same juncture is, pardon me, a batshit insane pace of indulgence!

Harping over the loss of your loved ones till the end of time will do nothing but stunt one’s growth in almost every way of life; that is like crying over spilled milk.

It is okay to be healthily selfish, sometimes.


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