Love, Poetry, & Coffee

~ 6 ~

"What's so interesting about books anyway?" Even though I'm walking away from her, I can still her scoff at that question of hers. She's being difficult every day, and the worst part is, I don't know what makes her be this way. I've already minimized my stress on writing, but she still acts like I'm still missing something.

I finally reached my way to the bathroom, staring deeply at myself on the mirror. What's wrong? Am I still not enough? I've already sacrificed a lot of time for you, but she is still acting like I'm not enough. Shaking my away, I turn on the faucet to begin to wash my tired face. I wish she could give me a sign if I'm enough or not.

I heard her shuffle her body against the door frame of the bathroom,"You haven't answered my question." Glancing towards her, she has both arms crossed together above her chest.

She's serious about that question. I thought it was just a joke to mock me, but she legitimately looks serious right now. Letting out a sigh, I don't know how to convince her that books are astonishing, but I'll try my best. "Well, for starters, books are the result of the author's unique imagination. It serves as-"

"If books are the result of the author's unique imagination, then why don't other publishing companies publish your works?" Did she interrupt me just to say that? I stammer my words in my mind, trying my best to find a good answer to that unexpected question. But before I could even open my mouth and answer her, she continues, "Is it because your imagination isn't unique enough?"

Something tells me that she's just sugarcoating that statement, especially at the way she said "unique". Of course, as a clueless person I am, I have to ask her. "What do you mean by that?"

She didn't even try to hide the eye roll she's giving me, "I mean, maybe the reason why publishing companies declines your work because it's a crappy excuse of an imagination." As if she's just waiting for that cue, she saunters away, leaving me in internal pain.

There's the sharp knife she's wielding. She just literally stabs me in the chest then slowly twisting it. The most painful about what she said is, it's true. I'm slowly beginning to believe that my imaginations are just crappy, and whatever I do to fixed that, it will always still look crappy. Maybe it's time to give up, I mean there's nowhere for me to go from here when I have a crappy imagination anyway.

***

My eyes feel groggy, and my vision seems to slowly teleporting me away from this world. How long have I fell asleep? Snatching my phone-thank God no one tries to steal from a sleeping person-I check the time and to my surprise, it's just in the middle of the afternoon. So, technically, I just slept for like 2 hours. I glance around seeing if anyone have witness me sleeping, but it seems like people are just minding their own business. Glancing back the book below me, it just seems like I've been reading through 10 pages. Cringing to myself, I can't believe that's how slow I read.

I haven't regain back all my consciousness, so reading will just make my head hurt because it's hard to comprehend something when I just woke up. Especially this novel, from the first pages I've read, it sounded so complicated. Glancing down on the phone in my hand, I just recall that I have something that I need to search on the internet. Perhaps some little knowledge wouldn't hurt this just-woken brain into trying to self-destruct.

The problem is, I need to recall what was I supposed to be searching on the internet since the morning I've woken up. An irritatingly sharp thing is poking my just-woken eyes, and with that, I've already remembered what I was searching for on the internet. Before I could even search the answer on the internet, I pull out a handkerchief from my pocket and gently use it to wipe the gunk out of my eyes. What I've learned in hygiene is that, rubbing with bare hands will send unwanted bacteria in the eyes. So, it's much safer to use a handkerchief to wipe out anything that's in a person's eyes. I prefer to wash it away with water, but I don't think the bathroom in this place has a sink, and even if they do have a sink, I would need to ask the owners the direction to the bathroom. If I try to ask them, they'll suspect that I've fallen asleep. So, I'm just going to dodge that awkward and quite embarrassing encounter. Now that's out of the way, my eyes finally feels like it's not in constant pain every time I blink. I can finally see without blinking and feeling a sharp, rough sensation in my eyes as I type in the question that I've been wondering since morning.