I should have given up by now, trying to make people understand, speaking their languages. My words are distorted to their mind. I dont know how many words i should have written but flushed them down to the bin just because i thought people will not understand. I am here for me, not for them, not for anybody else than me. I have fears that different than theirs, i have dreams that can not grow from their soil. How can i make them feel the colors that running thru my fingers when i try to hold the breeze? How can i make them listen to what silence has to say to their hearts? The beauty of solitude, the walking of this path for the solitary souls.