a book
Day 41
I read a book once
whose title ive forgotten
lose binding
held fast by two small hands
read too fast
by much too novice eyes
this book wasn't about heros
nor about villians
it was a book about life
a book about things that can happen
ideas of Sunday mornings meeting the sun rise
of being alone in an apartment listening to the sprinklers coming on
awful attempts to find community and purpose
in each chapter I found more of life
than I knew what to do with at that young an age
yet I hungered to know it
to feel it for myself
the problem with books
aren't that they show you
what could be
its the pyre they ignite
whose light pours into every inch of oneself
never satisfiable wanderlust
a life lived but never fully realized
It has been a lonely day and I'm not sure why. It's like you know something is off but can't quite put your finger on why you feel a certain way. I always like to stay positive, but something feels off. Hoping that a night of playing video games or doing more writing cheers things up. Otherwise I'm just going to have to go overboard and find 80's commercials to feel nostalgia again.
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