Yesterday, I wanted a dad very badly. I was feeling like december again and I wanted someone to tell me that it is going to be alright. Well, I do have company to tell me that, but for the first time I missed having a father-like figure like everyone else. I know so many people who look up to and lean on their fathers, including my mother and I keep thinking how lucky they are. I cried for many hours. pleaded to people to find me one. In vain ofcourse. It was an absurd demand, I agree now.

Today, I am fine. Somehow, I picked up the pieces into which I broke myself the last night, and I am holding them together with a string. The string is of course made of hope. Not the hope of finding a dad, but that of being alright without having one. The hope of moving on, being with myself. Often I feel like a helpless child, waiting to be picked up. I forget how I am still with me. That, I can pamper and discipline myself. 

That

I noticed that uptil now, during the 24 years that i have lived, i have always witnessed this situation where a close one is getting hurt and i cant help. for if i try, they get more hurt. i harm them even more than before. its like i am inside a fishbowl with dark water inside, while the others are outside, and if i try to come out and help, the darkness spreads. so i scream and shout and bang the walls silently lest they suffer more.