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The Unborn


That was the day when the child in her had died. Literally and figuratively.
What she had felt was grief, free of all associations with the rest of the world. "Why me" was not a question that popped up in her mind at all. Because the rest of the world didn't exist in the feeling of void she had felt. That was the day which  had made her feel irreversibly vulnerable to the difficulties of being a grown up. Of being in the real world.

That child had lived only for her and only in her. Hidden from the rest of the world for ever. She was the only one who could claim to have ever known it at all.

The loss of the unsaid, the could-have-beens had haunted her forever through out her life.
Trying to stay afloat while being sucked down to the depths of her sorrow, she realized that the could-have-beens were what created her present and immediately felt free from the phantoms that haunted her. Her present in itself was the consummation of her could-have-beens.

In the middle of that deep immense grief, she was able to find profound joy in the realization that all her parallel universes, the ones in her head and the ones that her world lives in were now all in one and that she could move on without anything calling out to her from behind.

The child had united all her worlds in her head  which would have otherwise thrown her in the dark dungeon of insanity.

Anything conceived and nurtured can not just cease to exist. Something remains- A tear, A change, A thought.

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