Zeroth hour, Dejunking my chaotic room, I came across a bag or,more like a sack of nostalgia. 'Cause of what I saw again, The Tawny-Brown fur, Those blue- mesmerizing eyes,A reddish-georgette collar around his neck with a teeny tail. Twelve-year old Plushie,It was. But "Tiger" with a "Best friend forever" tagline as I called him. I was only four,When I got him.
When life never mattered the most.
When the only thing I cared was "Tiger".
When having a "plushie" as my bestfriend didn't matter.
When it was just about Taking him along,absolutely everywhere to teaching him alphabets to
Eating with him to
Finally Packing him in a muddy white cloth along with six other plushies, We drifted apart. Until,I found him again but this time,To this 16 year old, He was just a plushie, Encrusted with six years of dust. He was no longer my "Tiger"
But why?
Was it Because of buried under the coercion of "A+ grades"? Or
Was it Because of life simply revolving around "Like and comments"? Or
Was it Because of not being the "perfect kid",Maybe? Or
Was it Because of couldn't possibly find a bosom friend? Or
Was it because of "Societal burden"?
But,Life surely took a turn in the span of 12 years.
But, what really mattered the most was this question,Which I asked myself,
"Could my soul embrace him again as Tiger?"
And
"Should he belong to me?"
"Should he really belong to me?"
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