One shady day, I got a call and she asked me to stop writing anything on the internet.
“what was all that? why are you writing so much about love and shit? I don’t wanna see you doing that again. And ‘i write for you sweetheart’? what kinda name is that?”
Sweetheart is the designation that I gave my pink cycle. My laptop also has its device name as ‘sweetheart’. I don’t understand what’s wrong. Love is no shit and is not of just one single kind, the kind which is generally associated with the word. It has forms and all are beautiful!
I wanted to tell her. But I could sense a full stop in her tone after that. No chance of any changes or hope of accepting any explanations.
“Why? You know that I have been writing such things since I was a child. What is the big deal?”
“People talk. These things give bad impression on the people who read your stuff.”
“nobody else thinks the way you do.”
“because nobody else would care so much, the only people who are concerned are us. Your family.”
Now that was true. Couldn’t counter attack it.
Hurt, after that day I didn’t really write anything good, at least according to me. The feeling is gone. It feels like deserted land over there, on the inside.
I just hope there are plants again! Someone please put seeds and then make it rain! hahaha
Good day! 🙂