Someone spells me out of scribbled letters,
The blotted papers of yellowing memories
Cringe in an autumn humid afternoon.
I hear my name, I hear the clink of words in abstraction,
I nod in despair: Twice.
A sea of memories plunge out of those yellowing letters.
I pull my scarf out in the wind,
It's fragrance makes my heart flutter
I tie it in loops over my head
Concealed and secure
I let loose those blotted papers
Those ink stained letters do know
Who I am, don't they?
I wasn't always who I am today. It took a lot of courage to break past my shell. Oscar Wilde had once stated that knowing what you want to be in life becomes a curse because you invariably become that but not knowing is liberating, there are endless possibilities of who you can become. I too didn't know who I was going to be. Today, I realise it was liberating. I never knew i could find my voice some day. Now that I feel liberated,it becomes difficult to remain confined. We need to grow, evolve into better beings each day. We need to grow past the "checks and balances" of life. I remember Fuller here, Fuller has asked us to be a part of a process of this evolving planet. He wants us to be "verbs" not "nouns"! Here is a tale of an introverted me who knew not what to expect from life . ....... I would talk less at school, not attend socialising events, avoid looking at stranger's eyes while on the road. In short, I wanted to be invisible to t...
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