The other day I reached out to someone who I had known for some time on a social media platform, and who like me was at a crossroads in life. Over coffee and advice on how to plan my future, we realised that we had been living parallel lives. He like me had had an extremely long relationship that did not work out and both of us had been left to pick up the pieces of our lives. What was ironical was that we both had laid out these plans of how our lives were going to be and in my case, 10 years later I had seen it all unravel like a spool of wool. By this time I was supposed to have done a second MBA, gotten married and started planning kids. And here I was, alone and without the person I had imagined a life with, mulling over whether it was the right time for the second MBA and wondering how I was supposed to prepare for the toughest test of my life (in my head).
While this conversation ensured that I left with a conviction of where I was headed, it also brought back a flood of memories. Memories of moments spent charting out a future. Of shared dreams, destinies and best laid plans. Plans that were now empty of a direction. Plans that spoke of moments of togetherness.
And then I did something I shouldn't have. I went back and looked at my past. Looked at where they were and what they were upto. For the ones who were married, I looked at the life they now led. Possibly happy and possibly content. The feeling of sorrow and emptiness that filled me was overwhelming. I was overcome with the feeling of sadness and loss. It felt like a death. And in so many ways it was, the death of a relationship/s. The death of bonds that held me here. In this place, all this while.
In a way this journey also gave me a sense of release. Because I can now truly move on. The path before me is laid out once again and I have a purpose. A goal to achieve, another life to live.
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