When a writer falls in love, she becomes human. A writer, who eats words for breakfast and bathes in the symphony of verses and paragraphs, loses herself in the lovely chaos of kisses and late night baby talks.
I’m not saying this to judge you, or hurt you, but rather to say this: you do not deserve that; you do not deserve any of that.
Love, in itself, is complicated and what makes it more than complicated is the fact that it does not sustain a relationship on its own. It has to be coupled with trust, patience, care — believe it or not — security.
We only had a bad shot in love and it’s okay. It happens.
I am sorry for a lot of things. I am sorry for not meeting you when I said I would. I am sorry for not answering your calls just because I was out with my friends.