I wasn't very sure what I wrote
Nor I do remember how old I was
But just to show off my new sketch pens I wrote some words in a piece of paper
I still remember how I felt looking at those few lines from my little hand ♥️

When I grew a bit.....
I was a person who wasn't able express much
Or may be I don't know how to convey even if I wanted
For every emotion my face had only limited expression even I felt more than that.
So I wanted to tell somebody or to be precise blabber everything I felt
Stocks of diaries I wrote....some pages were stupidly had no meaning

My writings didn't had any fancy words
It was as abrupt as I felt....I scribbled.... Scribbled and scribbled
There's wasn't any poetic sense in my lines
It neither conceived a deep meaning
I was just a written format of what I spoke to myself

Years rolled on but this habit got clung to me
But not as before I found something hooking
Words as a garland made the lines flowing through my pen
The phrases conveyed more than what I could
Now it was no more a blabbering to me.... I found my work beautiful

I just didn't write only about myself and how I feel
So many lines popped me for whatever I see
I started to write being in others shoes.
My face turned with full of expressions....exclaiming at everything that happens.
Not just me but people around also liked this habit of mine

I wanted to make my habit as passion
I wanna take my lines to millions of unknown eyes
So selfish and sweet i'm...
I wanna share my grief with them and ease it off....I wanna share my joy and multiply many folds.
So I started publishing them in all the ways I can

And that's me here ♥️♥️ and my story from a seed to sapling🥰

- sai smruthi 😍