Since the beginning of birth, it has been like this. I’ve lived in some kind of fear. Today, I can write just about anything but I cannot write a thing about that fear. It’s still there. Only it’s clearly felt when I am around my loved ones – my family. Calling them ‘loved ones’ is farcical. I remember father once yelling at us, ‘We are just four people living together. We are no family. We will never be.’ What he said was harsh but true. Even today, we are no family. It’s better now because I live far away from them and I don’t feel any need to visit them. Sometimes, I make them calls and that’s it. Enough of socialising with the loved ones. There’s no love, just the appearance of it. Haven’t had coffee in a long time. It’s a sunny day and no bird has died since morning.
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