Quill, Write Ups

Fool

“Hey Olivia, can you please call her.”

“Call who? there’s no one standing here but the two of us.”

“You are but in looking the wrong direction. Check yet again, and this time beneath these thick layers of necessities. See her now?”

“Are you mad. There is no one else here.”

“She is right here, look straight from my eyes, there she stands- Olivia. Please call her.”

“You idiot, you’re asking me call myself. What is wrong with you.”

“Oh Olivia dear, I’m asking you to call Olivia.”

“What are you. You thick skull. Olivia and Olivia are the same person.”

“How can you two be the same person. You are but a slave to your own thoughts, a slave to your own self constantly living in fear of falling, in fear of failing. constantly trying and trying and trying but not knowing as to what are you trying to claim. While on the other hand the one of whom I speak of, she is a free soul rather she is a feeling, a feeling to live, a feeling to express herself and she is not bound by fears of earning $100,000, or fear to make herself a living and acquiring the so-called prestige of our society. Rather her primary objective is to maintain that precious smile on her face. To ensure that the little girl in her, she continues to survive and not just survive but continues to smile as well.”

“And you befool me saying you are but the same people. Moron you are.
For you even need another soul, to differentiate between yours and your body.”

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