\ Into her \

All of us needed our own saviour. It could have been in any form. A person. A talent. An outburst. A paper. Laughing. Smiling. Walking forward. Breathing. Writing.

And some of us needed someone to save us from ourselves. Our minds. Our own demons scattered in the depths of places we don't even want to imagine. Perhaps, it was what she was looking for.

The depth within.

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But little did we know, the heart was nothing but a sponge. It absorbed all kinds of feelings--pain, pleasure, depression, joy.

Once absorbed, never stained.