Dear Editor,
Take Heart, My Dear.
The pages of your magazines are unruffled. The vibrance of the images still penetrates my pupil. I still log into my email , my eyes yearning for you. Nothing has changed. They say that difficulties are merely stepping stones to success. I admire your endeavours to promote the lingering love of literature amongst us.
In this era, not everyone tastes words. I love the way you're striving to bring the flavour of words on our taste buds. Take Heart, My Dear. You know you're going to shimmer on magazine racks always. Your pages shall bear the frustration of a million teenagers, and yet give them the pleasure of being published. I breathe Teen Ink. It's the only gourmet I talk of. I speak Teen Ink. I see Teen Ink. I write Teen Ink.
It's because of the ink stains on my skirt. I am Teen Ink.
Yours,
Praniti