For a split second you feel relieved but then comes the disappointment. Because you don't get to read it anymore. Because the story is over right when you realized how much you loved it. And then, you get angry. Angry because you can't shake this feeling that someone took it from you, even when you know it's your own fault for just reading too fast. For not enjoying it while you had it. And it's when those thoughts cross your mind that the sadness comes along. Huge waves of it, crasing down on you and pushing you to the bottom of the ocean. You're drowning. Drowning without your story. Drowning in your sadness. Looking up at the light filtering through the water, you feel the last breath of hope flutter across your chest and land on your heart. And it stays there for awhile, making you believe. ut slowly, you start to sink deeper and deeper until you can't see the light anymore. And in that moment, that hope flies straigh up your throat and out of your mouth. Suddenly, there's nothing there anymore. Nothing but emptiness. And empty is all you will feel until your back hits the bottom of the ocean and your eyes close, and you're gone. Or at least that part of you is. That part of your heart has died. And another part will rise to the surface and look at the sun and smile. Smile because it found another book. So it will hand you the book and say, "Here, read this. I promise it won't be like the last." And of course you will listen, bescause this part of you has yet to be broken. Has yet drown.
viernes, 12 de septiembre de 2014
"Here, read this."
I think, I think when it's all over, it's like finishing a good book.
For a split second you feel relieved but then comes the disappointment. Because you don't get to read it anymore. Because the story is over right when you realized how much you loved it. And then, you get angry. Angry because you can't shake this feeling that someone took it from you, even when you know it's your own fault for just reading too fast. For not enjoying it while you had it. And it's when those thoughts cross your mind that the sadness comes along. Huge waves of it, crasing down on you and pushing you to the bottom of the ocean. You're drowning. Drowning without your story. Drowning in your sadness. Looking up at the light filtering through the water, you feel the last breath of hope flutter across your chest and land on your heart. And it stays there for awhile, making you believe. ut slowly, you start to sink deeper and deeper until you can't see the light anymore. And in that moment, that hope flies straigh up your throat and out of your mouth. Suddenly, there's nothing there anymore. Nothing but emptiness. And empty is all you will feel until your back hits the bottom of the ocean and your eyes close, and you're gone. Or at least that part of you is. That part of your heart has died. And another part will rise to the surface and look at the sun and smile. Smile because it found another book. So it will hand you the book and say, "Here, read this. I promise it won't be like the last." And of course you will listen, bescause this part of you has yet to be broken. Has yet drown.
For a split second you feel relieved but then comes the disappointment. Because you don't get to read it anymore. Because the story is over right when you realized how much you loved it. And then, you get angry. Angry because you can't shake this feeling that someone took it from you, even when you know it's your own fault for just reading too fast. For not enjoying it while you had it. And it's when those thoughts cross your mind that the sadness comes along. Huge waves of it, crasing down on you and pushing you to the bottom of the ocean. You're drowning. Drowning without your story. Drowning in your sadness. Looking up at the light filtering through the water, you feel the last breath of hope flutter across your chest and land on your heart. And it stays there for awhile, making you believe. ut slowly, you start to sink deeper and deeper until you can't see the light anymore. And in that moment, that hope flies straigh up your throat and out of your mouth. Suddenly, there's nothing there anymore. Nothing but emptiness. And empty is all you will feel until your back hits the bottom of the ocean and your eyes close, and you're gone. Or at least that part of you is. That part of your heart has died. And another part will rise to the surface and look at the sun and smile. Smile because it found another book. So it will hand you the book and say, "Here, read this. I promise it won't be like the last." And of course you will listen, bescause this part of you has yet to be broken. Has yet drown.
