Returning
I didn’t believe I would survive this. I didn’t. All that kept me going in the rain of the adamant downpour of exams, amidst the unending trail of worries, uncertainty, and the blankness of a tentative future looming before me, was a dream. The dream of making through the end – and after all got over – standing at the terrace of our little home, far away in the villages and sniffing the wet scent of the air with my dress puffing in the howling wind. Everything were at sixes, my head was a messy cellar of age-old ruminations, cluttered and in ruins. I searched my way out in frantic despair. I wondered if I should give up, if I should let it all go. At moments like these, I would close my eyes and return to our little home in the village, under a thousand stars, the stars that were mine a million light years ago, the stars that birthed my broken beautiful self. I don’t know when my story will find its destination, but I believe in the truth of this moment. I believe in the seren