People often say to me that ‘How lucky I am’, “I am perfect and so do my life”. I hate it when people use words like “lucky and perfect” to define me. I am not lucky or perfect, for everything I have now in my life and what I am now behind it there are endless nights of crying and sitting in dark alone. For every happiness I have paid heavy price for it. ‘Luck, ‘Perfect’ does not exist because there is no one lucky in this world and no one is perfect. We all dwell in our own solitude and loneliness.