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The child in us

Today marks the birthday of Jawaharlal Nehru and Children's day; I decided to use the occasion to write about someone I almost lost along the way. As a born depressed being, I always saw the world with tinted glasses. I have an innate feeling that there is a monster in every corner. Though I was not proved false in most cases, I did figure out my way of handling it. Through all these years, the primary thing which kept me sane was my craziness and the child in me. The person who found joy in a bar of chocolate and a drop of rain. The person whose creativity rose along with the shapes of the clouds. The person who secretly hoped for goodness at the other end of the road. Like all other things, life happened, and she could no longer handle the heat. The vacuum was too much for her that she suffocated on her regular basis. The worst part was that I did not realise that I was losing her until the last possible minute amidst the endless drama. Today, I strive hard to keep her breathing so she would return the favour. But everything seems so dark and scary that I am terrified that I will lose her forever. 
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