On Being Sylvia...

I am diving into the wrecks of emotions that ought not to be discovered. My mind is creating odd symphonies and I can clearly see the sights which must have been in the trenches of my soul-never to be felt and seen again. Dear world, this fever is making my mind to work on strange tracks. Paths that must be abondened are being embraced. Footsteps that were vague are being cleared and I am being welcomed to the depths of my pacific. 

When I create my story, I can't choose a central character for myself because if I do that, then I'll have to endure many pains in the story to breathe life into it.And I'll have to bear many unfamiliar joys as well.I won't be able to do both.Instead, I'll craft myself in fiction. I'll become my own pen and create my own canvas, painting myself with my own colors.I have formed many connections, so I can experience life in various beautiful perspectives.A woman who may not be perfect but is certainly sincere.I am sincere in all my relationships, connected genuinely with myself.

We writers are ruthless creatures. There is a strange aesthetic pleasure in crafting tragedies where characters are suffering from emotions that we have kept hidden in the dark trenches of our mind. I am in the awe of this drama. It is reminding me of so many things that should not be unfolded and must be kept within my heart till last burial.