as i move through

Here's a little rundown of bits and pieces from my memory at 22 years of age because I am suddenly pathetically hit by the lack of it. We were pea-sized, first grade kids when Aabha and I first met. We drifted apart for a few more years before she came back to our school from Pokhara. I was the first kid who recognized her from four years back when she was playing alone at the swings in our schoolyard. She had changed her name, her hair was different, our skin and bones had grown a lot. I just walked up to her quietly, sat on the swing next to her and asked her if she was the kid who had transferred somewhere from our school before. She was. Looking back at this now, it makes my heart fuzzy just thinking about how vivid this memory is inside my brain. I could probably even tell you what direction the wind was blowing in at that moment. And as someone who struggles with memory gaps, this feels like a huge feat, really. I am glad that Aabha and I are still pretty much the same as we ...

In my mind, I had pictured 15 different opening sentences to this blog post. But none of it seems right - all sentences were a whole less brutally honest than I wanted them to be. My blog has been my safe space since I started this back in 2011. I have always come here to let off my biggest secrets, my stories wrapped around in a dozen or so of sentences. This has been my escape. And today I am back here to just let things off of my chest.  I am not the best at reaching out to people. But I am also someone who would leave a note on your desk or text you at a random time just because something else I saw reminded me of you, or if I saw or heard something that I think you'd appreciate, I'd let you know. These days, I have been thinking about this a lot. There are a lot of what-ifs involved but I am just honestly curious. Do people really feel equally guilty for reaching out to people and for not doing so? I often find myself constantly torn between - what if I am being too unnece...