Secret

“Say,” Rose asked Dawn. “What’s your secret?”

My secret? I could tell you, but you probably wouldn’t believe me. It’s pretty simple. You just have to look at the right place.

Yes. I remember when you used to be better than me. Back then I didn’t see you the way I do now. I expected, no, wanted you to stay that way. I wanted you to be one of those unchanging constants in the background of the ever-changing set that is my life. I guess it was too early to decide. I forgot you were human too.

Everything seemed perfect in your life, compared to mine. You never had to worry about the things I had to deal with, and you naturally had a knack for socialising with the people I couldn’t bring myself to, not after we drifted apart. You were one of the people I longed to be, when I didn’t realise what being at the forefront of my play was teaching me.

And I’m sorry that it happened, I don’t know how but it did, you began to recede. Both from my attention and from the merit list.

I could tell you my secret, in hopes that it will help you find the way you seem to have lost. It will help you if you let it, I’m sure of that. But will you let it?

I believe in myself. I believe that no.matter what happens I won’t gibe up hope. And I know that because I’ve been through a storm big enough to catapult me into the abyss if I had let it. I’ve found my strength. I’ve found my weapons and companions as well. I have people who won’t give up hope on me, probably even after I have. That is all I know. I let that lead me. That is my secret.

I don’t know if it will change the way you look at the world; the things and the people. It easy to jump to conclusions. What’s hard is to investigate. I feel you’ve jumped to a lot of conclusions in the past few years, not all of them very positive ones.

The question isn’t about secrets. The same hot water that softens the potato hardens the egg. ┬áIt’s about what you’re made of. And the good news is, you can decide what you want to be.

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Author: anankhan98

When I close my eyes, I see myself as a writer. I see a pale blank page in front of me and feel a solid pen in my hand. I feel inspiration flowing through me, hear the words being whispered in my ears, ready to be written. And I see myself writing them. So, I write. And that is why I am here right now. To let the world know that I want to become better at this. That there is this unbelievably naive living in this corner of the world, who wants to have people help her become the best she can become. My focus is actually on fiction. I dream up stories in my sleep, literally. And I can't help but want to write them. Knowing English only as a second language is a drawback, though. I still try.

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