It was autumn. The season that is like a test of nature. There are millions who'd call themselves nature lovers but this season is the one that shows the true people.

Everyone can love someone or something when they can get something in return. But to love someone or something even after knowing that you'll not get anything in return is the true form of love.

I had always loved writing, it was an irreplaceable, irresistible, inseparable part of me.

Whenever I felt down, it was something that held me in a fit of realisations, making me remember my ideologies whenever they felt lose.

Something or the other can always be missing in a person.

But my words had always been about finding oneself again, in the lost mazes of darkness, even if it took someone to make you realise yourself.

To reminisce yourself.

And love is a reminiscent feeling, a strong emotion.

Something that can never be said but only felt.