She did not want to be my friend anymore, I walked away slowly down the steps; leading me to think deeply and to change, the world was so different those days, none to hold my hand, to say it’s ok; I thought so much and was alone, as none wanted to be friends, so it was never her mistake; it’s all ‘bout me who was a failure and a huge mistake: I grew older, of course, with years passing by, often sat down to write my thoughts when I was sad; one day I wrote when I felt happy; those words were soothing to read than the unhappy ones! So writing became my dear friend, though without a face or a figure I loved to write; words became my best friends....