C.S. Lewis once said, "It's strange that day to day, nothing changes, but when we look back, so much has changed."
I stumbled upon another quote recently:
"The residents of the sea couldn't hear the sound of water after some time."
The next line escapes me, but the sentiment lingers—how we often grow so accustomed to our environment that we forget to notice the depth of what surrounds us.
I’m not entirely sure what the point of this piece is, but perhaps, like life, it will make sense in the end. When we pause and look back, the chaos of our lives often reveals patterns—like constellations formed from scattered stars. It’s only with distance that the dots begin to connect.
Yesterday, as I prepared for my exams, I realized how much time I’ve been spending in my room. It has become a place of comfort, a sanctuary. Oddly enough, a piece of cloth—a signed overall—has become my source of solace. Every time I stand or feel overwhelmed, my eyes are drawn to it. Strange, isn’t it? How something so simple, imbued with meaning, can anchor us.
Amidst this reflection, I felt an urge to pen down my thoughts in my diary. Here’s the entry I wrote:
I wonder what you would be doing right about now. I don’t know the time since my mobile was confiscated by my mother, but if I had to guess, it’s probably close to 10:08 PM. You usually sleep around this time.
What did you study today? Was it Surgery? Have you completed everything besides Medicine? Are you confident about your exams?
Knowing you, you’re probably anxious, worrying about a lot of things. Burning the midnight oil. Consuming yourself like a candle to fuel the flame of your success and extraordinary marks. You might be studying two or more books at once, shining so brightly that I can’t help but imagine you in your room, utterly absorbed, oblivious to everything else.
And still, I can’t help but remember you. The way you walked towards me that day, with a spring in your step. That small, deliberate smile of yours—it made me forget all the grievances and aches of the past decade. The gentleness with which you held my overall and wrote upon it... Words that have become my balm in difficult times.
How foolish am I, striving to touch your light, burning like a moth drawn to a flame? And yet, even as I couldn’t reach your fire, you gave me something precious—a spark to illuminate my cave of abyss.
Even as I read back over this entry, I’m struck by how much I’ve grown in just a couple of months. Reflection is a strange thing. At first, it feels like an indulgence. But then it becomes a revelation. It shows us how far we’ve come, how much we’ve endured, and what little things—like a signed overall—can mean in the grand tapestry of life.
So, maybe the point of this post isn’t about finding meaning but about trusting the process. The chaos and incoherence of today will become the constellations of tomorrow. And while we can’t always see it yet, the beauty of life lies in how everything eventually connects.