Guess who’s back?

So I left, packed my journal and pen, closed my laptop, put them in the bag, ran out the door and shut it so hard that the vibration is still being felt a year after. The funny part of leaving was that I had not even started, I was still unpacking my backpack when fear suddenly gripped me and I ran.

The crazy part about leaving wasn’t even about leaving but the mere truth that I just left without saying a word. No e-goodbyes, No e-hugs, No Arnold-made-popular “I’ll be back”, no hopes for a return, just the back of the door I shut behind me.

Everyone kept gazing and staring, hoping and believing, that someday, that door would open again and I’ll walk in again with a bigger backpack containing a better journal, a golden pen and a nicer laptop with more confidence and having the head of fear on my palms like a roman soldier.

Who am i?

"Who are u?": I felt i heard someone ask me, i frisked my shoulders as if it's got d reply to d question. I was astounded and astonished not because of the question bearer's question but because of the dexterity with which the question was asked. Obviously, the question achieved its purpose, catch me off guard, make me fidget and like a broken string of a guitar, made me look like a marooned sailor on an unfamiliar island. I had no intent on how to answer the question. Somehow, i was really beginning to feel i didn't know who i am, the question had played itself more than a hundred times in my head.... Suddenly, my head woke up from its initial slumber and like a man possessed with too much of everything , i fired back at my invisible questioner: "You don't know me at all! You don't know who i am! You don't have an idea of the magnitude of power conferred on me!