Look back to the child you once were and you’ll understand the person you are now. i used to be a nuisance to my sister, always urging her to read me a story, i loved the tragic ones most, i loved the pain even though i couldn’t understand it much. It was a foreign emotion for a 4 year old child, pain was a cut you’d get from tripping over a sidewalk, this constriction in the heart was much more powerful it consumed you from inside out, it was fiery and powerful. I loved it, i loved the intensity. I loved the tears it brought to my eyes, i loved the kindness it brought in people’s eyes, The honesty of the emotion was addictive, truer and a 100 times more powerful than any other. I was instantly hooked.
She stayed in bed all day, mesmerized by a book she’d started reading, a book she couldn’t afford, a book she didn’t have to afford. at night she dreamed of her favorite virtual world, one that lies between two hardcovers, one that lies between the lines of a collection of words and verbs and she fell into a dreamless sleep, for she never seems to remember having any.