I think lately I’ve forgotten how to express myself.

I forget that in my tiny part of the world, I have a voice.

I forget that I have words at my disposal to tell stories. Stories that make someone laugh. Stories that tear someone apart. Stories full of love, and loss, and heartbreak.

It has been an overwhelming 3-4 years and I have never publicly talked about the things that have happened in my personal life. There are nights where I still lie awake in bed and wonder how things went wrong and how I got here.

Just like most people, I had a plan–but even with all my planning, everything fell apart. Sometimes certain situations come back to haunt me, and even though it is all in the past now, I still can’t help but wonder if there was a way to avoid it all happening in the first place.

When I was writing Impossible (and most of Falling for Hadie), there was a spark inside of me that burned so bright. I could not write fast enough. But soon after, the personal stuff took over and I have never quite recovered and found that 21-year-old Komal again. Now I’m 25 and trying to find that spark again.

One day, I hope it will come back. Until then, I’ll keep pushing on and translating the voices in my head into stories as best as I can.


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