last week of being a twenty seven year old...

On Monday next, I will be a 28 year old woman. It sounds strange, calling myself a woman, especially when I think of myself as more of a little girl who can be a girl at best.

I guess I do belong to that age bracket now, and have been here for a couple of years but still think it is inconsequential. When Soumya died in that freak accident/murder last year, all the newspapers mentioned it as the death of a 26 year old 'woman', and I was thinking, (among the million things I was thinking then), that had this been an article about me, I would have been called a woman too. What a sick thought ones mind can trick them into thinking.

This is not at all a happy post! I want to write more but it will have to wait till tomorrow I guess. I can feel the writer's block creeping in on me. Mine in not like the usual writer's block where it is a dead end of ideas. What happens instead is that tonnes of thoughts come tumbling out from a box in my mind I keep tightly shut, for reasons ranging from 'This-is-not-at-all-important' to 'I-lack-the-courage-to-face-the-truth-because-it-might-hurt-and-I-am-not-sure-how-strong-my walls-are-to-save-me-from-it'.

I don't understand the basis of my confidence in my sanity.