Ace Of Hearts: The Game Played By Heart

Author's broken heart

Hello to everyone,

I hope you all are doing well.

As I gaze upon the pages of my beloved creation, "Ace Of Hearts: The Game Played By Heart," a heavy sense of disappointment weighs upon me like an anchor dragging me into the depths of despair. The realization that my labor of love, my painstakingly crafted masterpiece, has been shamelessly copied fills me with a profound sense of disheartenment.

Each word, each scene, each character meticulously sculpted from the depths of my imagination now feels tainted, stripped of its uniqueness by the hands of those who seek to profit from the fruits of my creativity. The betrayal cuts deep, leaving scars upon my soul and casting a shadow over my passion for writing.

The thought of pouring my heart and soul into another project, only to have it met with the same fate, fills me with a sense of dread. How can I summon the motivation to continue when the very essence of my craft is undermined and devalued by such blatant plagiarism?Every keystroke feels heavier, every idea tainted by the fear of it being stolen. The once vibrant flame of inspiration flickers weakly, threatened by the chilling winds of doubt and mistrust. It's as if a dark cloud looms overhead, suffocating the spark of creativity that once burned brightly within me.

Despite my efforts to persevere, the weight of betrayal drags me down, sapping my enthusiasm and leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. How can I summon the courage to wield my pen once more, knowing that it may only serve to feed the insatiable greed of those who would steal my voice?

For now, I find myself at a crossroads, grappling with the daunting task of reclaiming my passion in the face of such adversity. But one thing remains clear: until the specter of plagiarism is vanquished, the flame of creativity within me will struggle to burn as brightly as before.

As I held the book in my heart, it words filled with familiar characters and cherished plotlines, a heavy weight settled upon my heart. Disappointment washed over me in waves, mingling with a profound sense of disheartenment. The realization struck me with a force that felt like a blow to the chest - my work had been copied, my creativity stolen.

Each word, each scene, each carefully crafted dialogue had been painstakingly conceived in the depths of my imagination, nurtured with hours of dedication and passion. To see it replicated elsewhere, without credit or acknowledgment, felt like a betrayal of the most intimate kind.

My mind reeled with questions, doubts, and a profound sense of injustice. How could someone so callously appropriate something that was born from the depths of my soul? How could they strip away the uniqueness, the essence of my creation, and present it as their own?

The spark of excitement that had once ignited within me, fueling my passion for writing, now flickered weakly in the face of this blatant violation. It was as if a part of me had been stolen along with my words, leaving behind only a hollow shell of what was once a labor of love.

In the midst of my disappointment and disheartenment, however, a flicker of determination began to take root. Despite the pain, despite the betrayal, I refused to let this theft extinguish my creative spirit. I would rise above it, reclaiming my voice and my artistry with a renewed sense of purpose.

For while my book may have been copied, my passion, my dedication, and my unwavering commitment to storytelling remained uniquely mine. And no amount of imitation could ever diminish the power of my originality.

See you all soon.

Simran Chaudhary.