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Imagine that your life is a book. Each chapter is a different highlight or shadow, each paragraph is a different tale, each word is a different emotion.
Every time you flip a page, something new happens. And sometimes, you don't want to just flip one page, you want to skip a few, see what happens; but you can't. Because you can't go to the next chapter until the current one is done; if not, your life won't add up.
In a different chapter, a different memory occurs; whether it's gleeful and cheery or sorrowful and devastating, it was still there, it was still written. You can rip out the pages, throw them in the air, burn them; but nothing will change the fact that they were once words that made up a memory.
And then, after the book ends, your life does too; whether it was a super long book or a rather short one, it was still a story; a unique story that is unlike anyone else's. And each story is beautiful, no matter what happens, no matter what the characters are like; because in the end, it is what makes you... you.
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Oh, I just love reading. I don't think people get it when I say how stories have got me through life. So instead of writing about how books has helped me, I wrote a metaphorical piece on what if books were life.
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories :P
RandomBehind these books and words stand a lonely writer with an explosion of thoughts and feelings she is never able to show. Read this book to get an insight on small snippets of my life. ~Editing/checking finished~
