When people ask,
How are you?
I say, I’m fine.
But what I really want to tell is,
On some days,
I’m jumping with joy.
Grabbing life by horns.
For everything seems possible.
Other days,
I’m filled with disappointment.
Over yesterday’s sorrows.
And tomorrow’s uncertainty.
A few days,
I’m harsh on myself
Criticizing and analysing.
Easily forgetting to love myself.
But most days.
I’m mere spectator.
Of the world around.
And it’s seemingly puzzlingly absurd ways.
Stuck with the realization,
That I’m a story.
Playing alongside million other stories.
Battling the same insecurities and worries.
Painting the present with lessons from the past.
Trying to little better.
In a hope,
That my story might make a difference.

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