There I go again suffering from a writers block. It feels terrible when words refuse to
create themselves onto plain paper. I don want to look at it but maybe the truth is that I can
express only grief and confusion. As I stand at that corner in life without the darkness or the
cobwebs of depression and frustration clouding my soul. There is a full stop to the maze of words
that I weave. There is peace in my heart and stillness in my soul after a long drawn battle
of emotions and expectations the era of content and begins and I have no words to express.
Love is melancholy, without the bitter ache in the heart it can never be complete maybe the
saying that the greatest stories told are tragedies has a true ring it.
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