Wafu,

Why do I address you instead of saying 'Dear Diary' even though recently, I have been writing more about me? It is rather like @ladyhoneysuckle 's Ameera writing to the man on the moon- when I address something to you, I am reminded of my childhood, those carefree days when I still had faith in mankind...

I miss myself. I miss being simply me. I miss being the person I used to be. I miss being carefree.  I miss not having to think of what other people would say. I miss doing things I love without evaluating the pros and cons.

I miss the joy I used to find in little things, like going to my dad's house on weekends, and the thrill of being allowed to stay overnight with my cousins. I miss curling up on the sofa in the hall upstairs, reading a book or watching the rain, back when I used to live at my grandmother's house. I miss playing with my cousins during the summer vacations, when Salu would target Hudha every time we play chuduchudambi.  I miss the silly games we would make up on our own, like "Maniyettan" that would make Sumi and Jalees cringe now!

I miss being the teacher's pet at school, though the boys hated me for being the class nerd. I miss recounting all that happened at school the moment I reach home. I miss having to worry about the little things alone, like making 30 one-word questions out of a single chapter for Prashanthi Miss and having to stand in the front while apologizing every time a teacher walks out of the class angrily, though I wouldn't have had anything to do with it. I miss Fouzan and Co. tapping on the bench and making remixes of all kinds. I miss the elaborate, silly, God-knows-what-genre story that our classmates co-wrote, and even now, I remember it whenever I hear 'Olathumbath irunnoonjal aadum..'

I miss being in constant touch with friends. Back when smartphones weren't in league, special sms packages were very much in fashion, and we'd chat to our hearts' fill. Even now, when some of those old friends' texts pop up on WhatsApp, I miss the good old days. I miss the conference calls to wish someone on their birthday, when everyone says a different wish at the same time, unlike planned, and ends up messing the whole thing. I miss the sad farewells at the end of a year, and the promises to keep in touch.

I miss being mesmerised by the moon. I miss making up all kinds of stories and scenarios while looking at the moon. I miss books. I miss reading, holding and smelling books. I miss making bookmarks for the books I love. I miss writing my stories and poems on paper. I miss the feel of a pen in my hand while I let my imagination run wild. I miss taking part in school/ college competitions where I had to write within a time limit and about a given theme. I miss the excitement of winning prizes, the thrill of the fine arts rehearsals (I can still hear Manoj Sir's teasings about "Story Screenplay Dialogue and Direction: Srrenivasan") and the craziness after our department wins the fine arts fest (every single time!) I miss running around doing things for the Media Club, making posters, handing out invitations, conducting exhibitions and press meets, the golden age when the entire class revolved around Nishad Sir...

I miss passing notes during class with Apu, Anu, Aiswarya and Ashna. I miss sharing lunch with Naseeba, Naju, Abhisha, Kaby and Theertha. I miss the lunchtime at Wadihuda when we used to make fun of Shahana's sensitivity to certain food items. I miss the school lunch breaks even more, when the attacks were so crazy that boys used to be stunned! I remember making the least mess but cleaning the most (because it'd be my bench and I didn't want to dirty my books). I miss the excitement and anxiety of receiving answer papers, and report cards. I miss the college farewells, the ones we gave our seniors, and the one our juniors gave us.

I miss being my younger self, in short. Back when I had less  responsibilities and more fun. What I wouldn't give to go back to those days...