Let’s make it a frequent thing.

I remember a time where I used to blog almost every chance I got – I had more on my mind back then.

I’m not sure whether I have less on my mind now, or so much so that I can’t blog because I can’t possibly post up everything I’m thinking without boring any of you readers out there.

But I’ve just been thinking. Yes in the middle of the night, I’ve been thinking.

I’ve been thinking that its been a while since I’ve just sat in the middle of my room doing nothing but think and listen to music, to ponder of the countless things life has to offer and the various challenges I’d face for sure in the future. I used to delve deep into my thoughts and wonder about the countless outcomes of almost every decision I’ve made, I’m making, and have yet to make.

I used to do all that, then glance at the clock and realise it was 3 in the morning and realise that I had to wake up in another 3 hours to get ready for school. And then I used to fall asleep during History class. I guess I used to think a lot more when I rode the bus back home from school. I could see more of what I was passing by as I looked out the public bus window. I pondered what could possibly going through the minds of the other passengers in the bus. I remember at one point I came to crystal-like realisation that every single person, every single thing that exists in the world, has a story of their life to tell. I know my own. I know part of other peoples’ stories. But then I look at the sheer vastness of the global population.

6,697,254,041 people.

6,697,254,041 different life stories.

But then I just sit back and realise there’s not enough time in a single person’s life to listen to, to comprehend and understand even a miniscule fraction of those stories. So we choose to be ignorant. Ignorance is bliss no?

To some extent that is true.

Remember the saying, “Friends should be like books, few but good.”

I remember going for an essay writing competition some time back and the people I met there had probably read countless books, gone over thousands of different stories, but I wondered how much of what they read stayed with them.

I guess friends and the people we meet are sort of like that. We may meet so many people, may hear different stories from each and every one of them, but only a fraction of what we hear and see, we remember. I think the stories and memories that stay with us are the ones that matter the most, because we chose to, and made it a point to remember. They’ve got to be important right? Maybe.

And then I think about you.

About what your past did to you to shape you into the young woman you are now.

About how the present is still moulding you, shaping you, strengthening you.

About what the future, what wonders it holds for you.

Our lives are pretty much like books, hence the previous saying. We’re constantly writing new chapters into it, with the choices we make, and the things that happen to us, good or bad.

Everyday holds something new for this chapter of my life.

The same goes for everyone, for you too.

In all honesty, I wish I was there with you to write every chapter of your life down, and you with me. I wish and hope I’ll be there with you to write the closing chapters of your life, and you with me.

But I know for a fact that right now, that’s not possible.

I know for a fact that someone else is there to help you write this part of your life down.

And there’s nothing I can do.