Life is different...

After a hard day at work, I spent the rest of the night sitting in my living room floor going through a few old stuffs from my past.  Most of it was my own writings, my dairy.  Different photographs from various points in time. But then there were letters, and cards, and notes, and printed emails from so many, many people.  People I knew once but not anymore. It seemed like I was reading letters addressed to someone else, and it seemed like I was looking at these cards and notes for the first time. 

It's amazing how intricately I knew these people once.  They shared a part of their lives with me and I shared some of mine. Some I knew only for a few months, some I knew for years, some I had crushes on, and some I almost thought would turn out to be close friends.  But they didn't. 

I can’t help but think that we don't really live one life.  I think we live different lives in a span of one lifetime.  If I want to create characters for a piece of writing, I could easily create at least four very different characters from myself alone, and you would not believe that it is the same person. The same is true for all the people whose relationships have survived with me over the years. I could create multiple characters out of their personalities; out of their stories.  



PS: Life is like the dice that, falling, still show a different face. So life, though it remains the same, is always presenting different aspects.