Hi, I’m writing to you again. This time, it’s just to you. Not for you.
I’m not going to tell you to let go, forgive and forget. I’ve already told you that. This time around, it’s about me. Well, most of the times it’s about me. Haha. I’m really bad at handling my emotions, words and obviously my fear of butterflies.
Is it okay? To be confused about what you want? In life, love and for breakfast?
Do we always need to have answers for everything that ends with a question mark? And if we do, why should we? If we don’t, why shouldn’t we? Of course you don’t need to reply to me. I’m not even sure, whether you realise or accept that I’m writing to you.
That’s the word of the day. At least it seems like it – Unsure.
“I’m unsure if that’s the word of the day.”
Do we all have to be so different from each other? If I can tell you freely and shamelessly how I feel, why does it have to be a treasure-hunt with the others? Why does anyone have to go through tiny clues to know how someone else feels?
It starts off with small things. It always does. Then slowly, like that adorable lego building, it piles up. Except it’s not adorable or cute. And definitely not colourful. On the plus side, thank God, they aren’t like lego pieces. Those damn pieces can damage your feet.
How do I know if I’m going to be just fine? Am I just looking at things the wrong way?
If I turned the kaleidoscope, would I see things differently? Would all the tiny, tiny, glass pieces turn around and re-arrange themselves into a picture that I want to see?
Tell me…. or well, dont.
I don’t even know what picture I want to see.
Have you ever seen a tiny puppy left alone on the roads? How does it survive? Ever thought about it? How, miraculously after a few months you see a bigger version of the once tiny, helpless puppy, now ruling her area. Are humans wired to do that as well?
I find myself always giving answers to everyone. You have an issue, I will be your guiding light. There’s an answer for every thing. Except when the anxiety begins to rise in me.
That’s when I start asking many questions.
Is it okay? Will it be okay?
I don’t know.
But do you?