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Isn’t it funny, that the very place we were born, where we grew up; where our foundation and ideologies formed, easily becomes our strange place? We leave home one day and it becomes the last day we are consistently at home. While our parents wave us goodbye, they barely realize that the same cute teary moment can as well pass off as a huge wailing moment because your little baby

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I Hated my Childhood

I hated my childhood. I did. When I think back to my childhood days, I shiver a little bit. Sometimes, I even semi-yell out an ‘arrgh’. I was dyslexic – Simple. Or was it? I didn’t start speaking until I was three years old. I could speak in my mind though. But it was really hard producing what I was thinking into spoken words. I wrote my ‘d’ as ‘b’,

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