Fiction

The Bottle

 

She had screamed and hollered at her mom. She had said a lot of not so nice things. She had thought this bottle would make her feel good and that it would state to the world that she was to make her life decisions henceforth.

But nothing happened.

This stupid bottle of black nail polish.

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Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

Author: Bhavya

Writing to me is therapy, it frightens and comforts at the same time. Liberates like nothing else. A book in my own name is a dream, but a bigger dream would be to write something that haunts the reader even after the last page is turned and the book is shut. I enjoy reading and music, spending time with family whilst battling my social awkwardness.

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