White Nights and a Fifteen year old me -a reflection

 "I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can't help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year. I don't know how to be silent when my heart is speaking." - White Nights, Fyodor Dostoevsky

I was 15 when I first read white nights and back then I didn't think much of the protagonist in fact he came across as a rather pitiful figure. Since then a lot has happened, for starters I am no longer 15, I haven't been 15 for quite some time now. 

I have come a long way since I was 15, or have I?

I fell in love. Felt that those were the happiest days of my life, and I wouldn't exchange for their memory even the moon and the stars and everything that lay in between. I loved her more than anything and sometimes, sometimes she loved me too. 

Alas, those days seem firmly in the past and I now must contend with the multitude of challenges that stare me in the face morning, noon, and night. As I chalk out plans on dealing with these demons one after the other, of the few things that bring a smile to my face, brighten my day up, and keep me going is her memory. 

She was the moon that was always beautiful. She was the breeze on a hot summer day. She was a rose in the desert. She was to me my everything. And then one day it all came to an abrupt sudden end.

Much like as in white nights except that it was all too real and every time I now look in the mirror I find a rather pitiful me. 

I have come a long way since I was 15, haven't I?

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