“What’s going on in your mind?”

What’s going on in your mind?”

“I don’t know. I wish I could express it clearly. Clearly, I am bad at it.”

“At least try.”

“I want that intensity. I want that kind of book which I end up reading; those ones which make us laugh and cry with them. Is it that bad that I want someone who would love me with that passion? One who would not give up on me? Who would wait for me, no matter how many years pass by?”

“That’s just a fairy tale. It doesn’t happen in real life. It’s better to be realists then wait for the inevitable heartbreak because of the one that got away. We are humans, we move on. We need somebody and that’s why it is important to not grieve for them. Smile for the happy memories and let the bad ones teach you a lesson.”

“But what if I want to be irrealistic? It would be wrong if I was only expecting from the other and not ready to give all that. I am. I am ready. I would rather have a love where I would give my all to him.

In fact, even you would! You would do anything for that person. You try to become a better person for them; not because they asked but because you want to be the best version of yourself for them. And the thought of losing them makes your heart crawl out and you can’t even imagine the pain of losing them. You would do almost anything to be with them; cross all the borders for them just for those few hours. ”

“Yeah, but in this world, how can you be sure whether the person is the one?”

“Your soul will answer that. Listen to it very carefully.”

 

– Hema Sanghavi

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Holding Hands

“So what happened?” 

“Nothing. We just held hands. ”

“Really? Nothing more? Tell me everything!” 
“How do I describe holding hands? It was the most intimate thing. No, I am not being coy. At first, it’s more shy. Just the softest touch on the fingers and then slowly glide towards the palm, holding them. Firm. Rugged palms exploring the soft lines of the other. You just don’t hold hands. You give them a part of you. Sign of trust and support. Like a kid trusting his mother to hold him if he fails to walk.
Those rugged hands tell a story of hardships and strength. Those small circling touches on the palm smooth your anxiety. Those holding hands promise security. Those enclosed hands proudly declare two souls conjoined. But above all, those warm hands somehow manage to melt the walls that you built over years. ”
Just another small snippet 

– Hema Sanghavi