This would be the most emotional post that I have ever come to acknowledge. It would seem as crazy as any other but you would do best to believe me when I brag of the liberties that all writers have. We can create a world and make the reader live or die in it, but most of the times we simply report what others have experienced. At times we talk of ourselves in the hope of redeeming ourselves-this rarely happens. I came across a group of people who pronounced a very harsh judgment on me within seconds of interaction. I was amused at how fast they did this and had a smirk on my face. I was yet to learn that a smirk could be taken as belittling of the person it is meant. They said I was "rude, different and most of all a snob who thinks that she knows it all."
Now I understand the greatest disadvantage of being an introvert. I smiled and sat far away from them. At a glance I could perceive what each was thinking but was immersed in deep sorrow at having been judged so harshly. This sorrow has prompted the writing of this post but it has also brought about an idea for heart moving story-that with time and a good publisher shall come to be sold on all the shelves within and without this country. Then again isn't it beautiful to be a writer?