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Somewhere between, vulnerability and therapy, We found love. The kind we had not read in books, seen in movies. But the kind that was ours.
He’s warm, he’s real, and his hug relaxes all my taut nerves and then comes the release. I have never felt safer or more loved, and yet the tears won’t stop.
Do you remember this old Doordarshan serial Kashish? A lazy browse on YouTube led me to this vintage gem of a TV show which left me with some unanswered questions.
She was shy at first, wondering if this other woman would even understand the feelings she had for her, so initially, she would approach her every day, buy a single flower, smile, and leave.
I cried in front of him and begged him for so long. I was disheartened to see that the person I loved so much and for whom I did so much, was not even bothered about my feelings.
Isn't love supposed to make us be our better selves? But what if reality is incompatible with human life and depression is an honest response to it?
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