We write.


We are authors. It sounds that simple.

But we have to write something which makes the world feel happy and warm, when in fact there’s a surging pain in our chest.

Keeping our emotions aside, we glide our pens on that paper. But this is for the world.

For us, there is always a diary, a few pages or a folder in our computer where we write how we feel. The sadness and frustration lie deep in the ocean of secrets.

But this is how we do it, we sit down and put one word after another until it’s done.

It’s just that easy and that difficult.


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