To the ones who grew up too soon,

Everyone cannot be God's favourite who can enjoy their lives 'childhood' for as long as they want. People like you and me stand out, we fight our own battles in this land of the favoured ones. So, we may not be God's favourites but we are his warriors and he loves us too. Yes, early maturity is a curse but it takes a tough mind to gulp it down and that my friend is what very few people possess and if you are one amongst it, then it's your hard work and compassion to move forward

A garden has all kinds of flowers; some fresh, a little old and some withered; there seems no particular reason that bounds them together, no definite age when they bloom, when they wither but each has its own sense of beauty. You may think that some people may find you boring, may not befriend you but there are plenty of fish in the sea and everyone gets what they deserve. Someday, sometime, you will come across someone who is exactly like you or who hasn't experienced what you have and still admires you for what you are.

The age at which children spend their time in their parents' arms, you were busy with building your hard shield called 'sophistication'. May be you then believed that shedding tears or sharing your trauma would make you more shallow, I hope you have grown old enough to normalise pouring your heart to someone. Oh sorry, I forgot that nothing is enough. If the existence of 'enough' had been true, our childhood would have seemed enough to caress our wounds; all the love we ever received would have been enough to stop us from hating what was happening. Nevertheless, we are the lucky ones in the end as the truth of life never came as shock to us in our adulthood, we knew it all along.

I end this letter with the hope that you have moved past that incident that had paralysed all this. Never blame yourself because you never knew how you roped yourself in this course of events.

I believe this journey that started from the day you decided to distrust 'trust' will end with light at the end of tunnel because sacrifices never go unanswered.

With love and from,

Another withered flower.