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The door opens and I jump. Without even saving my work I hurriedly shut my computer and look up. It is a force of habit. I actually feel guilty when I write. As if I’m wasting my time, or indulging myself. I never felt like that until that time I gave my work to

Not even Rosa knows about that one time. I never told her because it hurt me so much I locked it away somewhere deep inside me and just pretended it never happened. After that I learned to write in secret.

What did he say that hurt me so bad?

Well, he kissed me gently on the forehead and said, “You know I love you and I want only the best for you, right?”

My heart was breaking as I nodded.

“I’m going to be really honest because I don’t want you to go down the wrong path. Is that okay?” Dumbly I nodded.

“I’m afraid to say it’s very childish, my darling.” “It’s a children’s book,” I whispered.

“I get that, but it’s just badly written. I don’t want you to get hurt and rejected by other people. Maybe you can try again when yo
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