I feel like spitting out my entire story but I am afraid that not everyone would understand me. For that very reason, I tend to keep a lot to myself. I feel that it is difficult to find someone who understands exactly what one has got inside.
But seriously, at times I am proved wrong. My mother understands me right. She gets me exactly and accurately. But not every time. Nevertheless, I am overwhelmed with how she apprehends me and my feelings, often.
I am little more coward, actually. I usually don’t open up to people, not even to my close friends. I get scared that what if they get me wrong and laugh out. I am little too much sensitive. I can’t afford to let anyone close enough to hurt me. Precisely, I love myself more. I know, that sounds imprudent. Maybe, I am imprudent. This is me!
Seriously, I have been through my worst of times. At times, I was left with no other option than to quit. But no matter what, I pushed myself and stood up even stronger (my assumption). This happens every time. And I wonder for how long will I be fighting, because I know I can’t fight forever.
I have always been my own saviour. I am kind of possessive with myself and my belongings. Most of the time I get kneeled down by my assertiveness. I try to explain my stand but somehow I am left with no specific words. And then, I tend to get afraid that what if I am not able to exactly describe what’s inside me. Being particular isn’t good, I suppose.
You see! I have written this long but there is nothing so eloquent about this article. I am not able to spit out exactly what I wanted to. Consequently, it is more of the paper stayed half-filled and I could not have defined it slightly better. Perhaps, I am afraid that not everyone would comprehend me. J