Dear Readers (if there are any),
I've been writing since ten years at least and blogging always made me feel I am not alone in the universe. I also realized that there are several million of us now doing the same thing. Just more creatively.
Do you remember when you used to sit down in a group, sometimes just over silly conversations and abundant food, there was no need for ice breakers and formal introductions, no reservations or strings, people would just be thrilled to be alive and with other people.
Now I feel we are epicenters of depression waiting to explode, too scared to show a chink in our armour lest our vulnerability be used against us.
What happened to us?
Why did words become our enemies and why did we become so busy reading between the lines that we forgot which story we picked up to read?
If you have answers or even the same questions, please let me know.
Because I have started to feel like I am at the end of my very long rope.
And maybe my walls have started to crumble.
I've been writing since ten years at least and blogging always made me feel I am not alone in the universe. I also realized that there are several million of us now doing the same thing. Just more creatively.
Do you remember when you used to sit down in a group, sometimes just over silly conversations and abundant food, there was no need for ice breakers and formal introductions, no reservations or strings, people would just be thrilled to be alive and with other people.
Now I feel we are epicenters of depression waiting to explode, too scared to show a chink in our armour lest our vulnerability be used against us.
What happened to us?
Why did words become our enemies and why did we become so busy reading between the lines that we forgot which story we picked up to read?
If you have answers or even the same questions, please let me know.
Because I have started to feel like I am at the end of my very long rope.
And maybe my walls have started to crumble.
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