Dear 2020, A lot has already been said to you throughout by everyone, I know, worldwide this time. Massive. A curse, healing to nature, blah blah. I suppose I need not amount it to you, you had been a year like none. There might have been a lot of instances I'd talked about you, but not to you. So here I am, writing to you twenty-twenty. Dear 2020, A lot has already been said to you throughout by everyone, I know, worldwide this time. Massive. A curse, healing to nature, blah blah. I suppose I need not amount it to you, you had been a year like none. There might have been a lot of instances I'd talked about you, but not to you. So here I am, writing to you twenty-twenty. I'd be dishonest if I go on telling you from how wonderful you were at initials in Jan simply because I don't often write to you neither do I have a way with letters. I even don't know the tone with which I should've greeted you and be resuming. Abstract or drawn-out, let's see how do you turn out? That is it, I'm going to baffle you the very similar manner you were in your reign of the calendar. 'Well-begun-is-half-done' was not at all in your case, I guess how many of such sayings had you altered. But you subsisted in my courtyard adjacent to the seasons. You hailed with winters which wreathed a plentiful of warmth memories, I remember the high time of school, a handful of occasions, and the grim I was left with. You were growing cold and you know better, don't you? Spring, thus, wasn't bursting with colors, sounds, and tactility. This was when I realized- for good to go wrong it takes no time and maybe then you come to terms with what bad is. Summers and monsoon followed the same fate. Notice that I don't blame you for the time you were, I appreciate you've made me accept you as you are.
