It happens so many times in life that you are in limbo. A limbo that demarcates the success from failures and when in that limbo, you are practically handicapped not knowing where to steer yourself and more than often cross over to the side you never wanted to be in. Tasting the mud and grovelling in the sands with your face all stained. Stains so permanent that they transform into scars which eat into you forever and a searing pain that rips your being apart yet you are not dead.
A craving to get to the other side becomes a part of you and instead of that you yearn to get back to the limbo to make way to the side where you see success shining high. It is visible and most of the times stares you at your face, jeering at you and making you realise that you couldn't manage it.
Well for once you do make it over and see how green the grass is solely becauseof your absence and overwhelmed you heave a sigh of relief but ready to go back to the limbo and make your way comfortably back this time and it's your turn to carry the scars aloft and show that you are made of mud that is quintessential.
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