When women get on competing, those aren’t real women after all. Real women are those who empower the other, and they aren’t found in parties or social gatherings.

But that’s the paradox of expectations; they are infamous for generally never being fulfilled.

Wat doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and since I was not dying, I was becoming stronger. I was losing emotions, though I didn't want to, but I was vulnerable and had no choice.

When women get on competing, those aren't real women after all. Real women are those who empower the other, and they aren't found in parties or social gatherings

Sometimes it's the end that matters and the means are only an add on

But whenever tragedy strikes, one is left either to die or with a plethora of ifs and buts to ponder over.

It is hard to write it in words that I can read, that re-establishes the fact that has been haunting me for the past one year.

Sometimes the end is only a beginning

But that’s the paradox of expectations; they are infamous for generally never being fulfilled

I threw tantrums, I acted stubborn, I was a pain sometimes, but I was still loved. In fact, I was their perfect even in my imperfection.