I don’t know how many times I have woken up feeling emotions I wish I had some sort of control over. Abandoned, lost, scared, and even violated, all of them are marked with repetitive dreams. The situation remains the same; at least now I appear my real age and not trapped in the body of a teenager. It is like, at some level, my subconscious has accepted the reality, but the desires and yearnings still linger. Every book finds some emotion inside of me and then stirs everything up that I have carefully put away, believing it to be over with. Maybe I am still learning whatever the lesson I am supposed to because it doesn’t quite lets me go.
Black Coffee and Grey Stories 
Leave a comment