By Anjali Sharma
Dear love
Letters are a piece of heart and so are you. Your dynamic forms always tend to bewilder me. Ranging from the most latent emotion to sugar-coating everything, you as a sentiment stand distinguished. Reminiscing about the days when diffidence used to take a toll, it reminded me of you. The definitions keep changing perplexing my heart ajar.
I hope you’re doing well in life love. I just can’t prevent myself from admiring and comparing you to a soul. Soul, just like you does not incline towards a particular gender. In your purest form, you mould yourself into Euros, Philia and Agape as expounded by the mentor of Paulo Coelho, garlanding the divine beings into your union.
Poetry, proses and stories have been written by stalwart authors including Shakespeare, Rumi, Gulzar expounding on your addiction, the horizons so wide, the oceans so deep, that they become seamless and incomprehensible. But there’s something so deep and disappointing about you. Its not only me but innumerable others who constantly expect highly from you, without acknowledging the fact that your ground reality is different from our imagination. Invariable issues including low self esteem, depression, anxiety and body consciousness persist around the planet, unbelievably the reason being you. Everyone can experience your complexity and perplexity. No doubt at an instinctive level, you never fail to bring out positivity in an individual filling each one of us with warmth and compassion. You are one of the most Herculean emotion one can feel and can push people to their limits. Wars have been fought over you and entire nations have been destroyed by your single act. Your potential to bond and wreck apart is worth salutations.
Rainbows and unicorns with hailstorm describe you the best. Maybe when we’re falling in you, it provides us a deeper perspective about life, and when we’re out of it, we have life experiences to share. You have the capability to destroy me but I’ll make sure I rise out of you.
With love
By Anjali Sharma
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