A Fight For My Love
I was stuck, stuck for more than a year. It seemed like eons. Writing was one of those things that came to me naturally. Just like breathing. I adored this habit of mine. But it was different now. I struggled, battled with myself every day to come up with just one paragraph. It was as if my brain was unable to decipher the code of words. It was impossible, like a distant dream for me at that moment. And I knew the reason, reason for this catastrophe, this disaster, this block. I started quite early, on my 10 th birthday my mother had presented me with a beautiful diary with other usual knick-knacks of presents. I was very fascinated with this atypical thing amidst all my wrapped goodies for my special day. Asking her with a zealous tone I was told that it was a book which would be my friend. No questions asked or no doubting games. Too young to grasp the essence of it, I kept it just as a token of love from my mother showing it off to my friends or occasionally doodling in it...