An year down the line, looking back at the last set of words, they have solidified from the molten lave to rock, banging me with the hard truth which I tried and managed to keep at bay for all this while. But the truth just stares at me point-blank, unapologetically; reminding me once again that however much emotions can blind you, the truth will always remain stark, naked and undefiled by time.


So here I am standing on the same bridge, though a lot of water has passed by. It only feels like yesterday, the raw wounds just as fresh. They say Time is the greatest healer, but what if it's not a wound but amputation of a vital organ ?