00:05 am, Sunday, 26th February’17.

I hate people who look at you with a melancholic feeling in their heart, witness the tear your eyes hold, the smeared smile and with a quiet whisper of ‘take care’ visibly grow smaller and smaller at the end of the airport. Without acknowledging the goodbye because they know it’ll tear them apart and way more significant agendas waits them.

Yet, their where times when they beheld you as the ink to their imagination, caressed your smile that rose to your eye and laughed with you at their own mediocracy. They sat with you under the sun , witnessed your life happening to you until it was time to get up and leave.

They actually know,

know the nooks and corners of your soul and being. This particular feeling gnaws at you, tugs at your core and in order to find peace you permit yourself to feel whatever it is you feel. Because those are inherently right. And true. They are worst when people love in the best possible way and destroy you the same. And it’s then you come to realise why cyclones are named after people.

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