Jemisha🦋🖤

Hey 
          Do you have stck id or something 

Today, I’m sad. On 17th October, it’s been eight years since my dad left me forever. I haven’t really shared this with anyone because I don’t want to hurt them or make them feel inadequate. If I talk to my mom, I worry she’ll think she wasn’t enough, or it might bring back memories of dad that she hasn’t fully healed from. And my younger brother… he’s the quiet, reserved type. He always acts like everything is fine, and maybe he truly believes that. But deep down, I feel he avoids showing his feelings because he feels the same pain I do.
          
          We both, my brother and I, have rarely cried, even when dad died from a heart attack on Diwali. But it’s strange — when I hurt him beyond what he can handle, he cries, and when he hurts me past my limits, I unexpectedly cry too. Today, though, I miss my father so deeply. I keep thinking about how different our lives might have been if he were still here. Would we have been happier? I imagine we would. A father is like the shelter of a family, and without him, there’s a sense of emptiness I can’t fully explain.
          
          Being the eldest daughter, I feel a weight of responsibility on my shoulders. I try to make my mom proud and keep my brother happy, even if it sometimes means putting my own dreams and happiness aside. There’s a constant balancing act in my heart — wanting to grieve and feel my own pain, but also feeling like I have to stay strong for them.
          
          If I could ask God for one thing, it would be a hug from my dad. Just a simple hug. I want to be that little girl again, to hold him tightly and feel completely safe, hidden in his arms. Yet, there’s fear in that wish too — because if I allow myself to feel that warmth and protection, maybe I would forget my responsibilities to my family. Then my brother might have to carry the burden that I’m holding now, and I don’t want him to. It’s exhausting just thinking about it, but I accept it because I have to.

Author when are you going to update hukum's rani sa

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I'm not ready for "TERI DEEWANI." No, I'm not ready, no matter how much I try to convince myself, no matter how many times I tell myself otherwise. Deep down, I know—I'm just not ready.
          
          THESE stories... they feel like a cruel reflection of my past, forcing me to relive moments I've buried deep within. Moments I'm not ready to confront. I try—I really try—but I just can't... I'm sorry.
          
          My head feels like it's carrying a weight far too heavy, as though it's on the verge of collapsing, ready to burst. I can feel myself slipping... slipping into that dark phase again, where all I want is for someone to hold me close and let me cry. To let me release the storm building inside.
          
          But the saddest part? The tears won't come. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how broken I feel, I remain dry-eyed. Just like the day MY DAD left me. Just like the day HE left me. It's as if I've drained every last drop, and now all that's left is this hollow ache. This yearning for something I can't even name... maybe love.
          
          But how can I ask for love when I'm so afraid of it? When the thought of it terrifies me more than the pain I already carry?
          
          I'm sorry... I'm just so sorry.
          
          

Hello!
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