It’s like you’ve had polluted water all your life. Then someone gives you half a glass of clean water. And then they tell you you can never have it anymore. And you see everybody around you drinking clean, pure water. But you can never have it.

It’s like dangling keys in front of your face. Keys to everything you’ve ever wanted. And as soon as you reach out, the teasing hand snatches the keys away.

But there’s positivity in this. There is creativity. Who was it that said… pain is the mother of poetry?

Jab jab dard ka baadal chhaya
Jab gham ka saya lehraaya
Jab aansoo palkon tak aaya
Jab yeh tanha dil ghabraaya
Hum ne dil ko yeh samjhaya
Dil aakhir tu kyun rota hai?
Duniya mein yun hi hota hai (Javed Akhtar)

I need to go through my old diaries again. Find my old self. The self that knew how to handle these things. The self that analyzed the pain, broke it down till it wasn’t pain anymore. Till it was only building blocks. Blocks that can be remade into something productive. When life gives you lemons, don’t only make lemonade… make lemon pie, make lemon flavored fizzy drink, make lemon chicken. Endless possibilities. Pain isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.