When the mornings start with miracles and end with mirage, when heart jumps joyously and later is left jarred, When sun peeps through the horizon just to hide behind the cloud, when laughter turns into tears, smile into a frown, You would think you are losing. You are crumbling down within, with the hopelessness churning inside. Nightmares would end to give away the miracles in the morning again, this thought doesn't even strike at that time. Nor do we see the silver lining in every cloud that blocks the sun. Perhaps It becomes easier to give up than move forward. Perhaps hope would seem vague and out of grasp. Perhaps it becomes difficult to talk it through. "Perhaps", speculation is all I can do. But having walked through the same lane, time and again, I can say conversation works. It really does. Expressing your concerns is the key to be free of this vicious circle of inevitability
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