Hi, I wanted to plead guilty. Of what exactly I don't know. May be for all the things I had said which you didn't want me to, or may be for all the things I had not told you but which your ears had longed to hear. In course of time we had sadly managed to bind one another, clipping our wings of freedom and perhaps like me you too feel guilty today. But my conscience has still not touched the grave and I'm sure yours hasn't too. So why don't we just hold hands. It may feel strange though as we haven't done that in many years. We have lost touch. I mean literally. But see how strange life is! Though guilt gives us a horrible taste of being bad, thank God that it's there to help us correct it. We have nurtured it enough to let it rock the boat of our life but now let's make it, rather transform it into an anchor to save our rocking boat of life. In the words of the young at heart '.....into a rocking life'.
Let's make friends with our guilt and ourselves. You remember the time I devoured the butter chicken more than you expected me to? You were upset that chicken was showing on my midriff and I snapped at you for your nagging. I know you meant good and you know too that I was hungry and hurt. But why have we been so silly to pack guilt for the same when we very well know that the chicken can't go back to the farm. The chicken is simply an analogy. Our lives have many issues which push us to chicken under their pressures. Anyway, now that the chicken is lost already, do we need to lose one another for it? Why don't we make this needling guilt into a vaccine immunizing us from any future messes? We went through an operational period where guilt cut at our hearts but now please let's stitch our wounds with a thread of an apology. Let's not let the colors of yesteryears shade the vibrant splashes of our tomorrows. Let us work to our progressive relationship remembering full well that we are works in progress ourselves. How entangled we let our silk route get with knots of ego! Let's work together please, to set free such knots.
To begin with, I'm sorry.