A story waiting to be written

Part 1

Our world runs on too many time zones and maybe that's why I find a way to get stuck in time. 

"This is not going away easily" I murmur as I type

Every night, I walk with a head full of emotions trying to tell myself that tomorrow is going to get better and that I will try to be better. Somedays, I just sit under the huge sky, looking at the clouds and not remembering the world that let me down.

Every morning I wake up with one thought -  

"The world is cruel, you have to be stronger" 

Running through errands and sitting with my laptop as the world changes it colors from bright to dark, everyday feels almost the same. I look at a photograph and a small something in me arises as I feel to write away my story. 

Not too long ago, in the midst of many cries there was an addition of two other cries - A humongous family where people rushed with their lives, driving through the crazy concept of adulthood. You could spot me bizarrely looking at the world around me galloping with time. 

Well, I was carefree - somedays I would pretend to cry to get all the attention I needed and somedays just smiled to look at everybody joining me. As weird as it sounds, it also made me happy. For a minute as though everybody found their escape. 

But growing up with too many people around I never found my safe space, I always wondered why I kept turning myself on and off in the betwixt of the chaos that surrounded me. As most of us, I grew up looking at my parents master the skill of sacrifice, knowing what was important to them then - us, kids. 

And we? We were a hard bunch, as mischievous as we could be! We kept learning our way up the ladder of life as days passed.. We all had secrets, ones that are still locked within us. 

A childhood that painted my head with merry. Laughs and smiles all along the ride. I soon found myself buried with books some that made me cry and some made me warm, and I figured with my innocence that I belonged there, the whole of me said - "this is your escape."

I would come home to delicious meals and my favorite sound - the voice of my grandmother. As strict as she was to the world, she was as gentle from within. She told me "kindness can bridge worlds together. The strongest weapon of mankind." something I shall always stick with. She knew my favorite delicacies, things she hid from others, just for me. Something about these little things made me feel special and taught me more about the emotion of love. Through her, I heard stories of culture and life. 

It is interesting now that I look back it wasn't just the stories that taught me about life, it was also the people that joined on this journey with me, as you will read.

Thoughts ran in my head constantly filling it up with theories, stories, reaching edges of the unknown. 

As the paths kept narrowing, I kept growing.