Sometimes, when I seat in solitude, I find, my voice sounds like echo of my silent pain.
Love Yourself. If you want to love someone, before that, fall in love with your own beauty first.
I travel within my heart, and I find some shabby corners there. They’re like the flower’s broken petals, homeless, for years. They’re like the shattered pieces of the stars lying on the ground, awaiting to shine in unison.
Writing is a magic. It heals your pain, and creates a world of your own. But, to be an honest writer, you have to pour your heart on the paper, as the words know all your story. The readers can smell your absolute honesty while reading it.