"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you," said Maya Angelou. How right she is!
The pain of not being able to write down the words that swarm your mind is something that only those who have felt it can understand. There is that longing to somehow get it out, the fear of the lines being irretrievably lost due to the current hesitation and the numbness in realising that at times, mind proposes and body disposes... It is much easier to bear the body pain but not the gnawing ache in my heart. And hence this running away, this seeking refuge in books, drifting away...
If it was physical pain once, now it is an emotional barrier that stops me. These things that I write-- be it a story, a poem, a letter to my friend-- they are so personal that sharing them is like opening my heart for all. So there's the danger of being dismissed as irrelevant, of being ridiculed and mocked and ignored...
Dear story, please stay intact. I'll try to jot you down as soon as my hand and heart permit me. Please don't go away.
"Our Lord, burden us not with that which we have no ability to bear."
-The Holy Qur'an, 2:286
YOU ARE READING
The Rain... (in my heart)
RandomSometimes, it's words and sometimes, it's tears. But this rain, figurative or literal, is all in my heart.
