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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