When I see myself in the mirror, I feel something incomplete. Is it the eyeliner I wore or the messy hair? Nothing! It’s my eyes. Deep inside there’s something hidden which I know what it is, yet cannot discover completely. That’s something I feel incomplete. A crazy confusion, from a million of emotions I go through, which one is real and which one is fake.
I’m standing in front of my mirror. Going through every inch of my body; I’m fat which doesn’t even bothers me. I see scars which I didn’t even realized I had on my face; the pain has gone. Everything is perfect. Yet, why am I suffering? Suffocating?
I took a paper scribbled all the random words that came to my mind. No thinking, no taking time just random words.
Going through all these words, I felt all the emotions I have been through in my entire life.
I wrote more words, more and more and more and I ended up in a two and half pages story; the story of my life.
Now again when I see myself in the mirror, I feel determined. I feel much better, I feel light; I feel complete.
‘There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.’ – Maya Angelou
I’m going to write down my story. Let me begin, but never end.