“ Writing , at its best , is a lonely life “ - Ernest Hemingway
SoMeoNe i CaRe THe MoST
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How's his day ? ~ I ask this everyday not knowing the answer ... half-guessing , half-dreading ... It could be good ; it could be not ... and of course I pray it’s good coz a bad day for him shatters me too ..
Sure his day is his ; my day is mine ... yet I EmBrace everything about him ...... his joy and joylessness ..... GooD days and BaD ..... One day he's really tough , the next he's weak ...
No , I don't particularly see him as a whiner ... but a human ... a human whom I CaRe the MoST for the last 217 days and on