Her sentiments were never important as it was before. Tears were counted meaningless, sobs are nothing but a noise. A broken heart was just a cliche. Nothing really mattered. A dauntless spirit ready to give up. Yet, there is this spark of hope, a peck of light piercing through. It is the way it is, when the peculiarity frightens a brave soul and yet, in reality it’s a twist. In a dark room full of doubts and uncertainty, filled with pain no human could decipher. There is an odd wight pushing through impossibilities. – Anne Lacanaria


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