Diary-1

 I sit at the window of my room thinking about all the the bewildered things of my past, trying to get past them but my very own thoughts not able to stop. I sit here smelling a waft of air which has a whiff of rain and soil. My eyes look up a bit through the old rusted mesh of the twenty-five year old casement ,I see clear sky with the hues of blue and yellow resting below it. The rain reminds me of my old self the coolness of it reminding me of once bubbly nature, the noise of the droplets of rain dripping down the cemented hedge reminding me of my always babbling mouth, the swiftness of it reminding me of my quickness of thinking and crafting things. The rain indeed takes me a back to a wedge of my precedebt which I don't regret leaving yet miss it the most. The, feeling of going back makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. Aren't there some things that we miss the most yet we don't want them back. Sitting and bowling on my bed the whole day living in isolation due to the hickety pickety rampant the nature has blessed us with. I smell my sheets which have a whiff of underconfidence and fear. The fear of opening up, of being judged, of being misunderstood, of getting hurt they all grasp me. To unbound myself of this I pick up my novel which was bought few years ago from a stall of National book fair. It smells of all old things which comfort me and I read it for the third time again. I dwell into it forgetting the rampant I am going through. I don't consider myself a victim neither want to be called one. When I think of sharing something from the box of my not-so-important thoughts, the words of affirmation and proud adhered to me by people ringing in my ears, I start retreating in my willowing cocoon which I had woven up a while ago. I turn around gather myself and look at the window of my room which gives me a glance of a totally blue sky and the mesh seeming to be more clear with the sun glimmering through.