"Why did you stop writing?" he asked.
"Hmm..." I paused for a bit then closed the book I was reading. "My words are empty," I said.
"Ha?" I saw a look of confusion on his face. "How'd you say so?"
"Even I can't feel anything everytime I read my works. It was like a song without a tune and no definite message. I can't keep writing if I can't make the readers feel something," I said.
"Maybe because it was all base on your imagination and on what you saw in movies? You haven't experience anything yourself. Why don't you look for someone you can use as an inspiration?" he asked.
I walked out my bed. The room was dark and the floor-to-ceiling windows are displaying the incredible views of the city. I stood by the balcony door and stared at the moon. It was astonishing as usual. "I already tried. I can't find someone."
"Then why don't you use me?" I looked back at his direction. He's as astonishing as the moon.
"I can't. You're too perfect," I smiled at him then I looked away. "And besides, you're just one of my imaginations."
YOU ARE READING
The World of Lettuce
RandomLettuce is the other half of me. I'm going to introduce him to everyone through my Short Stories and Poetry.
