This year.

This year. I know what I want to write about this year but I’m not sure how to express them so clearly as to transcend the story I want to tell.

This year. This year has told me lots of stories, has made me a witness to many scenes, has made me cry more tears than I thought I had, has made me grow an extent I do not know enough (just yet) to conquer fully.

This year. This year has been one of the most trying years of my life. Equivocally, it is also one of the happiest. It’s a year full of learnings just like all the other years of my life, but this one…just made me absorb more than what I wanted to.

This year. The year which made me say goodbyes and hellos more often that I wanted to. It had strengthened my patience, so strong at times I’d be both sad and happy about it. It had made me silent when I least wanted to be, and made me say my piece when my inhibitions are as guarded as can be.

This year. This year made me want to chase after dreams- people and ideals altogether. This year made me rethink them, too.

This year.

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