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What makes you happy, he asked me with a curiosity. Hoping to hear I'd say adventure, climbing mountains or maybe stealing my favorite book from the bookstore I couldn't lately afford. 'That tree...' I said pointing towards that lush green entity standing upfront right before our visible horizon. He gasped and chuckle of disappointment echoed in that room of full of chattering souls. What answers are you seeking, he asked when he noticed my eyes longing for a shooting star in that densely covered blanket. I'm asking questions I say marking an end to all his further doubts. I sat there staring blankly away from him not acknowledging his presence that demanded attention. Giving up on his list of questions, he started narrating an observation. 'I was noticing you all the while you were standing there, you seem to be in some other world not bothered with everything that annoyed everyone in the room. You seem weird' he made a statement not hoping for an answer but an explanation indeed. Conversations drain me, I said in the pestering annoyed voice and made him take a step back. Lifting up his glass he turned his back uttering that this was the signal perhaps, of him returning back to his table. 'Finally' I thought to myself  staring back to the horizon hoping to tear the zenith apart. 'you seem to have consumed all your smoke, I can share my last' he offered with a genuine smile. Tempted enough to extend either a little more, fell for the bait. What's liberating for you, he couldn't help but ask. Writing, I said without a pause. Poetry slipped next. I handed him few works as he asked me to expose him to some. Ran his eyes through it and an exclamation that came like an obscurus hitting uninvited., 'it is very dark' he remarked to the prose that livened up my soul each time I moved my fingers over it. 
Oh how surely I know, the world would never fall for a sad girl. But hey, only if they knew, that sadness she writes about with such a perfection is just a longing for him. The very him who made her fall in love with every sad song ever written. And apparently left her for the sole reason that she didn't listen to those happy songs she wrote all the while wishing for him to happen, but, with a sad undertone. For sadness, she believed, was hence the end of the now happy. But aye my friend, the world would still never fall for a sad girl. The same girl who writes a happy song with a sad undertone. And yes she knows, 'the things we put up on show are the ones we least care about...' and you'll always be a sad undertone, for putting you on show is scary thought. Of losing you, yet again.

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DOUBT

Once on a blank ruled page, She tried scribbling a form... Matching some broken lines A lame creation, hence born!
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