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Incomplete

There are just too many things that I Love and feel like doing time and again with all my heart but, there is always a ‘but’. I don’t know why but there is always an ‘I don’t know why'. I look back and realise that there have always been just too many things that I’ve left behind Incomplete. I have often come across this saying that it’s always the first step that is difficult but I feel what’s even more difficult is the first step after you have left something in between or the first step after you have failed in it for the first time.

There are times when I look at a painting or a sketch and feel like trying my hand at it and there have been times when I have tried but never pursued it the way I should have. I always feel like playing some music instrument, I started off with guitar in college but never practice enough to fall in love like the way I wanted to be. I never bought one for myself because I never had the courage to spend money and time on things I was aware that I won’t be able to do. I was wrong that was a mistake I shouldn’t have given up, bought one and should have certainly played it till my fingers bled, at least once I learnt from that mistake and bought a violin when I was in Pune and had a lot of time to do all that I wanted to do. I thought if I had one of my own there won’t be anything that will stop me from spending my time with it but I was wrong, maybe I wasn’t passionate enough.

And I believe I am not the only one who have experienced this and all those who have experienced this must have realised that it’s not at all a good feeling. It makes you wonder about the things that you don’t want to, it makes you question about yourself and all that you want to. The question that smothers is not whether you can do things but whether you actually loved those things, whether you yourself are aware of what you love and if you really love something how can you just give up in between.

Sometimes it happens with thoughts of travelling to far off places, despite wanting to travel with all my heart I end up sleeping in my bed. I have always believed we can always do what we love without finding it difficult. But I don’t know why at times I am not able to write about what I feel despite wanting to pen it down with all my heart. I sometimes wonder whether I actually want to do all those things and if yes then how can I question myself over those things.

Often at night before sleeping I indulge in a conversation with my heart and realise that I want to say a few things to few people or tell someone that I was thinking about them but I just end up leaving it all unsaid. Does it mean all that I felt wasn’t real?
I wonder what if things I have left behind or the ones I am leaving behind are the ones that I want to stay connected with. Moving on is never going to stop how will I know what to take along and what is to be left behind. Because at the end of the day it is me who thinks of saying and me only who ends up leaving it unsaid, how to figure out what I really want. I do understand eventually life unfolds all the answers but what if the answers are for the questions that I am carrying along, what about the questions that I have left behind. I do understand everything happens for a good reason but what if what I am leaving behind would have made me happier. At the end of the day I am the one who is making all the choices, universe may be creating situations but it’s always me who is deciding where to go and whom to take along and what to leave behind.
Am I not the one who take my car and decide at the cross road whether to head towards Goa or Gokarna or beyond, am I not the one whether to take someone along or go all by myself. The least I can do is to take the best possible decision for myself and rest what unfolds comes after.

Sometimes I wonder whether only wanting to do something and not doing it in real is okay because it does with happen with me a lot that I want to do something but doesn’t end up doing it. Sometimes it’s being there with someone, sometimes it’s impossible sometimes it’s just me. Sometimes I want to write something but doesn’t end up doing it so well, is it okay to just try, is it okay to be incomplete at times, can incomplete be perfect?

I am always going to be incomplete, we all are going to end up being incomplete but we can always make this incomplete perfect. No matter how much I write I will always crave for more, no matter how many letters I write I will want to write more, no matter how much I travel I would always want to explore more and farther from earlier. There will always be someone or something that I will have to leave behind, I cannot take everyone along everywhere, no one can, the least we can do is to take ourselves along with ourselves wherever we go and doesn’t leave any part of us behind. You may wonder that destiny will take you somewhere but what if the destiny itself was to go somewhere and somewhere was your choice right from the beginning, what if destiny and destination itself was about the journey and choices.

We are destined to be where we want to be…

Mukul



This post first appeared on JourneY Is MY DestinY, please read the originial post: here

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