Dear book,
I am sorry to say I am not here to chat something pleasant with you. I am here to vent out the my troubling thoughts.
I am here to confess I can't be a good author in the way my conscience will praise me. No matter what others say the opinion of conscience matters more. Even if the whole world praises you if conscience doesn't get agree with that those praises even pester.
I couldn't leave behind everything which bothers me as an author. I have improved myself to some extend, but still I am an improper one.
I could be sincere towards writing the way I wished.
Just regretting here at this hour.
My dear Lifeline,
I know you don't consider my flaws. For you my feelings are always adorable no matter how much down they fall themselves into.
You have been the pillar of my strength, my peace and my pleasure. Whenever I get bothered unnecessarily I feel like insulting you nd hurting myself at the end.
Still I don't know why I get distracted for small silly reasons.
I would have asked your forgiveness from you directly, but I came here, because you visit this book of mine, and read my words here.
I feel the happiest when you read my words.
I am promising you to make myself better, maybe the best in my own way 😇
Before concluding my writing asking your forgiveness and the forgiveness of universe who have given me the blessing of my life whose value I can't hold all properly, all perfectly.
Sorry, my lifeline. Sorry, Universe.
Taking my leave for now.
Radhe Radhe 🙏
