Tough to get up.

Days went by. Time never stopped. It was getting tougher. She wasn’t prepared to face anything that came towards her. Failures had already pulled her down many times, she was afraid that this could be the next. 

Every single time she gathered the pieces and tried to get up, someone/something pushed her with a larger force each time. The force is so large, so strong that the pieces become even smaller. She never gave up but the last experience was so bitter that the present has never been sweet enough. 

Nothing favoured her. Neither did she herself. 

11pm yesterday…

It grew darker. The moon shone brighter. City lights filled the city with life. It was comparitively quiet. 

She stood there in the balcony gazing the sky, waiting for a shooting star. She wanted to make a wish. A wish, uncertain to be true. It was getting tough and the pain in her throat made it tougher. But she kept on gazing; because, it was a last hope. 

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