âI remember being a young girl with no experience of romantic or carnal love and yet be so full of musing that u found art in the stress of homework, summer farewell to my cousins, my motherâs harsh words and little girlsâ gossip. Now at the ripe age of 22 and a bit of bittersweet taste of different kinds of love, I find myself empty. I sit down to make a muse out of my misery but there is no song anymore when the birds sing, there are no colours in this spring. This year butterflies do not have rainbow wings or maybe Iâve gone deaf and blind because I donât feel anything. I sit alone, I make tea for myself, I have thoughts of dying that I donât tell because thereâs no one, thereâs no one to love me.â
Akshita Singh (pages of her journal)








