Today, I stumbled into a time-capsule...

Today, I stumbled into a time capsule buried in my inbox - emails from 2022, written by a version of me I barely remember. They were conversations with A. and N., people I was not close to then and also haven’t spoken to in years.

Reading them felt like meeting a stranger who knows me intimately, a younger self who poured care into every word.

I’m surprised, inspired, and a little aching. I need to write to find out. The rest of what you’re reading below is quite literally me thinking through everything I’m feeling now.

The emails are vivid.

To A., I shared articles on digital gardens while she shared ghazals and told me about her reflections on homesickness and writing.

With N., I offered advice on surviving finals and finding purpose, my words brimming with empathy and actionable steps. I was so present - so kind with my time while also sharing pieces of myself through URLs and ideas. I don’t recall these ever writing these emails or engaging with them. They’re like photographs of a life I lived but can’t fully claim.

NM, who I forwarded them to, is the only tether to now, a reminder that my circle has shifted.

Younger me was weaving meaning through emails that felt like letters. He didn’t know those conversations would fade into a slow darkness, but he wrote anyway.

I’m realizing I still carry that spark to make sense of the world through words. But I’ve changed too. The people I once wrote to are gone from my life, replaced by new faces & priorities. This rediscovery is bittersweet: I miss that version of myself that was so kind with his time & so open to sharing.

I’m writing now because I want to mark this moment & feeling - it’s also a subtle plea to become that person again, to share and reflect more often. I don’t know A or N anymore, but I know myself a little better today. These emails are proof that I’ve always been someone who seeks meaning, who builds bridges even if they don’t last.

This rediscovery also illuminates who I am now, shaped by the connection I’ve found with K, somebody I deeply like. This present me, loved and trusted by those closest to me, feels like an evolution of that 2022 self. I’m no longer scattering my energy across many connections but focusing on deeper ones.

Rediscovering my past has also reignited my desire to write, not just for myself but for those who see me as a beacon of care.

A more recent email thread, with my friend S, deepened this rediscovery, showing how I’ve grown yet stayed true to my core. Last year, we swapped playlists and writings, and she called me a ‘fascinating piece of work,’ an open book with an intrigue that draws people in. Her words reveal me as someone who curates joy - through songs, dosa, or shared Substack posts.

S’s perspective echoes K’s and NM’s. Our talks of Kafka, farewells, and the creative internet remind me that I’m still the person who shared ghazals with A, but now I pour that energy into fewer, richer bonds.

This evolution feels like a gift now I think about it.

This year, I shared quarterly updates with a personal board of mentors and friends, unveiling a sharper picture of my present self through their eyes. TL sees me as brave and asks to embrace life’s joys and sorrows, while SG calls me talented but inconsistent, pushing for discipline to match my optimism.

KK praises my intention as a superpower, and NM admires my courage to seek clarity at 25, though APR worries about my health habits.

These voices, from colleagues to close confidants challenge me to refine my focus. SG’s & APRs critique of my unreliability stings but recalls my 2022 self’s reliability for N, a trait I will reclaim.

Writing this, I see my past self’s openness in my vulnerability that are now tempered by a quest.

I’m driven to keep sharing with others now - building bridges that may or may not last.

And so, I’ll write. I’ll send an email to someone new, share a song or an idea, and see where it leads - letting words flow without feeling like a task. I’ll be like water, as I once advised N - fluid, open, and unafraid to carve new paths.