Always I have written for me before anyone else but my words are for anyone and everyone who seeks comfort in them.
But today, it feels different.
Every inch of paper thats absorbing my pain , every ounce of ink .. every word, I am using is adding to my guilt, for in times like these , these words may and I hope they do find someone who need them more than me.
I dont know if all this makes sense to the reader, but for now I am keeping the pen down for I have added enough guilt.
Would you rather
use your lifesavings to repair your beloved but broken old home
build a new one?
pick up the shattered pieces of your favorite frame off the floor and in process cut your fingers
buy a new one and walk past the old pieces, even if it hurts your feet?