A LOVE STORY

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 'I want to write a love story' I said.
'Don't, you want to sound intellectual, right?' He said.
'Yes, so it will have a sad ending.' I answered.
'That's not intellectual, is it?' He inquired.
'Well, I will write a love story of a person who has fallen in love with himself. But no matter how much he tries, he cannot meet himself. He cannot love himself. And finally, out of pain he die of a broken heart. His heart started aching deep behind the rib cage every time he sees his reflection. He could feel his heart desperate rhythm begging for love to the mirror. Crying. Love me. Love me. Love me.' I felt prod for sounding girl with a brain.
He kept his glasses down and politely expressed.
'Whole world is narcissist or suffering from a certain level of narssism. For what are you trying to say is not intellectual, but a dramatization of some aspects of reality deep within all of us except that we don't die. We live long enough to create a person within us who equally hate us for who we are. Go pick up a mirror. If you are true to yourself you cannot stand whole of you. For something inside you is stopping from accepting yourself completely.'
I knew he was right.
'Then, a love story between a girl and a boy is cliche. A story between two people falling in love is also common. How about a love story between living and non-living thing?'
'Don't try to be who you are not. Fakeness is a disease which half of the world is suffering from. Don't suffer with them.' He picked up the newspaper which was lying on the table.
'Then how about a story between you and me. A story of a living women and a dead man.'  

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