Abstruse one

There is a thing about fear It's always there ! Fear of the unknown, fear of facing it alone.... Fear that those close to you, you barely know them She was out there alone, bereft, unmoored.  What makes a place feel like home? Is it warmth ? Familiarity?  Some say it's my undying tough love. It's not easy to love someone when you are sure of not getting it back,sure of hurting yourself, living with darkness inside.  Walking backwards down the memory lane it feel I loved a complete stranger. Or was I stranger to his unknown Land.  I m captivated with lies and promises I was made to believe. Pain that consumes me with joy.

This world is ugly and crass, people lie and people leave , and the beauty that does exist , is fleeting and insincere. Every now and than someone comes along  who will make you believe in love, you can keep the monster at bay . You needed to be sacred from unfairness of everything . From every masquerading as a man ,  That you let into your body ,your heart  You learned you didn't have , whatever magic turns a beast into a prince , So can you live like this ? say you love him ? say thank you to him ? say anything but the truth

Memory's truth, because memory has its own special kind. It selects, eliminates, alters, exaggerates, minimizes, glorifies, and vilifies also, but in the end it creates its own reality, its heterogeneous but usually coherent version of events; and no sane human being ever trusts someone else's version more than his own.To understand just one life you have to swallow the world ... do .Most of what matters in our lives takes place in our absence .Our human tragedy is that we are unable to comprehend our experience, it slips through our fingers, we can't hold on to it, and the more time passes, the harder it gets... the natural world gave us explanations to compensate for the meanings we could not grasp. The slant of the cold sunlight on a winter pine, the music of water, an oar cutting the lake and the flight of birds, the mountains' nobility , the silence of the silence. We are given life but must accept that it is unattainable and rejoice in what can be held in the eye,...

Major part of my life, I have been unhappy. I cannot explain or elaborate, nor I can write a novella as relatable as this. Depression has seemingly bared her soul. I am sure, she had her set of inhibitions and constant fights with self; but there can't be more gritty words to describe all that she experienced.  "Jonathan Safran Foer writes in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, 'Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living. she has liberated her dark thoughts to make you believe every word of it. I began to see my symptoms as defining personality traits rather than what they were: side effects of a troubled mind. When the people in my life told me I was negative, difficult and unfriendly, I believed that was just who I was deep down inside rather than attributing it to the fact that I was in pain. I embodied my illness and my illness became who I was in my mind." Let's un-taboo depression and treat it as any oth...

When we were together, the only way I know how to describe the sense of calm in my soul is to compare it to the feeling of watching the sunset over the ocean on a summer’s evening, skin salty from the sea and sunkissed. That’s what it felt like to be with him. In the moment, it was amazing. I couldn’t believe that this part of my life was finally shifting, after so much pain and heartache, it was going to be different for me. But to be completely transparent, there were still anxieties. I wasn’t completely healed of the years of hurt I’d endured, all of the scars I’d earned and created for myself. . The uncertainties were coming from a learned fear, not an intuitive And I couldn’t fathom how something could feel so different, and end up the same.. But that wasn’t it.

I used to ask myself all kinds of questions about you. I wondered what you’d look like, if you’d have dark hair and gorgeous dark features. I wondered if you’d be tall, although you wouldn’t even have to hit 6 feet to tower above me. I often asked myself if you’d be funny. If you’d make me laugh in a kind of burn in my belly sort of way, or if I’d laugh along just because I’d like you so much. I’ve thought about conversations we’d have… and secretly I’ve had the entire back and forth dialogue between us in my own head, as I’m standing in the shower simultaneously contemplating my life choices. I’ve thought about television shows we’d watch together, and books you’d tell me to read. I thought about the way you’d say I love you, before we go to sleep at night, or how you’ll get along with my parents and I’ll adore yours. I’ve probably had thoughts about every conceivable aspect of what you’ll be like, and somehow I found it impossible to wrap my head around ever meeting y...