India, April 8 -- But, could I open my heart up? Could I tell him that I loved him only to be rebuffed by his parents later? I had been hurt in the past so was not so sure. But.

It had happened again. Not that I was surprised.

I had lost track of the number of times when I had borne the brunt of someone else's disapproval. I guess I should have been used to it by now but it still hurt. It hurt to be rejected like someone would reject a particularly overripe/rotten vegetable or fruit at the market.

Dejected, I retreated to my room. I looked at myself in the mirror.

A round face framed by poker straight black hair that cascaded down the back all the way to the waist. Brown eyes, midsized, not too small and not too large, decently shaped...