Those were the days...

She saw him from the corner of the window of her room. Her heart skipped a beat. Just the sight of him was so wonderful. She never really talked with him, but had lived with him, told him all her secrets in her dreams. One day she saw him smiling at her, she felt great inside. It was an emotion she could not describe. Then she slowly grew up. Just seeing them stirred no emotion in her anymore, but yes talking did. Then she grew up even more, finally nothing stirred her anymore. Wonder why passion die with age. What is it that get killed during the process of aging?

"With every person you meet you either die a bit or are born a bit"-I totally believe in the truth of the statment. Seems like your current state is the result of this excercise of dying and living that you go through evertime you meet someone new, be it in the form of a friend, boyfriend, aquaintence, neighbours or even relatives.

Wonder what I would have been like had I not met the people I met. If I had not closely known such varied personalities in my life, would it have been possible for me to be as open minded as I am. Then again is it that I met these personalities so I am what I am or is it that I am close to them because of what I am. If the later is true then can we say that we are the results of our environment? Or is it that we choose our environment according to what we are?