Hello the someone who's reading this,
Here's my story,
This was the 30th time I was witnessing these very words being hurled at me.
"But why is this 'not good enough'? I mean, there must be something which disappoints you. And I promise I'll take care of it." I watched her unchanged blank expression "Please. Don't do this to me. I came here with a lot of hope." I pleaded.
"I'm sorry. But this is a publishing house. Not a counsellor's office. Now if you may," she gestured towards the door, "because I have more much important things to do."
I heaved myself and turned towards the door. Each footstep felt like a mile away from my dreams. It appeared as if I had come too far now. Too far to look back and find a way to where I began. It was saddening.
That night, I cried as I went through each and every word of each and every page. Funny isn't it? The fact that you read comedy and then you cry?
"You don't waste a syllable, honey. This might lead you somewhere."
I asked my teacher what she meant that very day. But she never told me. I remember how she replied, again, leaving behind clues I couldn't quite follow.
"Just do what you like."
I thought I had the desired reply, but the night of the 30th rejection, I finally had second thoughts. Maybe I was too silly to understand. Maybe she meant something else.
I had so much to ask. To my teacher. To the publishing houses. To a lot of people. But the pile of questions kept increasing until I could bear no more. And these are the last words you will ever read from me.
Goodbye everyone.
Love,
Bella
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