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.