I pick up the pieces of some broken parts lying there on the floor of my room.
The parts which once belonged to me.
The parts which I just abandoned and detached from me.
I pick them up join them and give a new shape called WORDS..
Words that will now be written on pages.
Now, these words will not just belong to me..
These words will become a part of everyone who reads them.
These words which expresses my emotions.
Expresses when I'm hurt,
When I'm broken.
I sometimes read them.
Read them aloud.
Mimicking some tale teller.
Then suddenly while reading them, I remember what made me write them.
I take a deep sigh.
Read it one more time.
But this time, I remember a face...
A face quite familiar..
A lot actually...
Wrote many hilarious lines just to see that face smiling in happiness.
I am good at writing things which doesn't make much sense...
"Make it your strength"..
A suggestion and I worked upon it...
I never knew these comical lines will become melancholic some day..
Irony stings very badly...
I enter my room, isolate myself from the so called 'REAL' world, lie on my bed and neutralising the inner chaos, I plug into a different world and ask this to myself,
"Tu itna zaroori kaise hua"