Ha! The familiar feeling of being safe and sound with fellow writers with whom I shall be happy to share a piece of my poetry.Though the world is big and round the clock, I feel intimidating to be in the center of such a spotlight, But, averse to the chattering of a rising bud, I am in the dark wishing and hoping, crossing my finger trying to be what I dream to be. A writer.
I write for the sheer pleasure of bleeding my hurt which compels me to the forlorn shade of isolation and I am always the smiling girl, hiding tears deep within and igniting others by a small smile.I don’t like crying though at times, tears fall like unexpected rain and I cry in silence, mostly in the rain. Just like Charlie Chaplin said, so that no one can judge me, for being who I am.
In the world so small like this, I know I can make a chance to light the torch and prefer to be in the spotlight for who I want to be rather than what I think I am. It’s a complicated emotion and I strive within the jilted pangs of hurt and depression. Well, one can always prefer to be what they want even though words shall suppress their confidence. I love to bold and unique, but not everyone gives me the chance to be open.