They

How It Began - Someone Special

They are always here

I know them all by heart

Expert words shaped every tear

And broadened every part

This is a collection of poems about books. After each poem, I will probably leave a "small" note about some of the reasons I love the authors and the characters. So please know that if you plan to read the book and you don't want me to SPOIL it for you(even though I'll avoid major events as much as I can), you might want to avoid reading any further once you get to the last line of the poem. Apologies for any inconvenience.

But first, I would love to thank an incredibly special person.

@isabelle_bl

I have to admit that you were one of my biggest Wattpad surprises ever. We meet so many people here, many of whom we think will be passers-by. Clicking your profile, little did I know you'd be the inspiration for one of my first works. A person who I'd learn so much from and whose raw writing style is so suffused with hope.

THANK YOU, ISABELLE.

Your work has given me the courage to open up about two truths which I think are messages everyone should hear:

1: DO NOT EVER use reverse psychology with someone who is depressed. EVER. You might as well be tying a noose around their neck.

2: I FORGOT HOW TO CRY

Once upon a time, I was little and I cried about a LOT of things. I honestly think I cried a lot more than the average child and I was made fun of.

Fast forward a few years, and there's an 11-13-year old me who has started thinking that crying is for the weak, who lets an admonition or a soul-bruising argument with someone she loves convince her that this person isn't worth her tears.

Don't get me wrong. I CAN CRY.
Just not the way I used to or the way I know I should. Give me a book and I could probably flood a room, but when it comes to my own pain, it's a major struggle to get the tears to spill. I feel a burning sensation in my throat, tightening limbs slither into my chest, mercilessly squeezing, making my heart bleed the hurt that my eyes refuse to.

I scurry into my room, bury my head in my pillow and only a few drops roll out. Although there was an exception a while ago, so I guess that's progress. :)

Who would've thought I'd miss those tears that flowed so easily back then? How ironic.

My point is: It's suffocating and it's wrong. I'm mad at myself for being so blind. I'm mad because there are people out there who have WORSE problems, people who are going through things that are so terribly agonising while I CREATED one of my problems, letting immature pride and cowardice almost rob me of one of my most essential parts of being human.

You've probably heard this before, but I'll say it anyway. Please, I beg you, don't ever tell yourself that crying equals weakness. Don't let anyone tell you, "They/He/She isn't worth your tears." That's not true. The person who tells you this probably wants the best for you, but you should know this:

YOU ARE WORTH YOUR TEARS.

EVERY SINGLE DROP.

Whenever you hear a voice lurking inside your head like I do saying, "Do you have to cry? You're nothing but a spineless weakling."

Remember this:

And this:

I will always be thankful that through it all, I've had my LORD and Saviour, my family, friends, one of which has lasted almost a decade, and all of THEM: Characters from books have helped me so much, just like I'm sure they've helped everyone here.

I am aware that I may never slay a six-cubit tall giant with a stone and sling like David, lead an army to victory under divine guidance like Deborah. I wasn't born in the time of Okonkwo or Nwokocha Agbadi. I don't exactly have the makings of a kid lawyer like Theodore Boone, neither have I suffered the horrors of a world war like Ariana Von Tripp. Never have I travelled across the Klondike fearlessly like Tara Kane..... And it's a lot less likely that I'll ever shatter a glass castle or hide from dangerous pirates inside an apple barrel. XD

But thanks to THEM all, I know things won't get any rosier but I know I'll be okay.

Thank you for reading this far.

Dear poets reading, I have no idea what I'm doing delving into your incredibly magical world.

Now that I'm done rambling:

I see their smiles when I close my eyes

The lull of their mirth rouses me at sunrise

Whispers of wisdom, wishes of freedom, dwell deep within me wherever I be

I always will have

For melodies their voices

For guidance their choices

I will know them forever but will they ever know me?