words drip from my mind like the drops from my hair as i let the flowing water wash it all away. and yet i cannot express myself.

and my hand cannot control the pencil like it used to. its gone, lost. just like that. in fact i'm scared even to hold it and try now.

i think i'm missing that country where one is never stared upon, never talked about in whispers. where one is alone but more than that, is on one's own.

and i'm missing some conversations. its not the same thing to be lonely as it is to miss someone. and nor does it mean the same to want to bawl like a 2 yr old in a tight hug and be told repeatedly that its ok. and yes it matters who the arms belong to