The Tragedy and Bliss of Being a Bibliophile

A book so Strong

A sob escaped her lips as she finally closed the book. She simply sat there, the finished novel lingering in her lap; tear stains forgotten as her grief overcame her.

She had found the book on a dusty shelf in a little hole-in-the-wall bookstore. She didn't even think she'd like it but it had seemed to be calling her, urging her to pick it up. So acting on a whim she had bought it and brought it home. Then she had forgotten about it, work or her relationships getting in the way. It wasn't until she fell into the deepest depression that she had ever been in that she remembered the little dusty book. So she rummaged through her endless supply of useless junk until she found it. She opened it and fell into the story.

She read and read, she became so immersed that she became the story, her body fell away, her worries, doubts; they simply did not exist. She soared on the highs, and wallowed in the lows. And then she came to the last word of the last sentence in the last paragraph of the last page and seeing the end she turned. Standing behind her were the characters of the book, those that died and those that lived. The good and the bad, standing as equals among the words on the page. They smiled serenely, bidding her goodbye and inviting her to come again. She didn't want to leave them. She clung to them, not ready for another goodbye.

"Must you leave?" She asked them, looking at them with anguish in her eyes

"We won't go anywhere. We will always be with you," They said, collectively placing a hand on their hearts, "In here. And if you find you must, you can always come back."

And so she said goodbye and watched them fade away. And as she closed the little dusty book a sob escaped her, and the tears streamed down her face. But as she sat there staring off into the distance, a smile graced her lips. Even though they were fictional, she knew she now had a book full of friends that would always be there for her, no matter where she was, or what was going on in her life.

So when you ask her why she loves books so much, and she says they help her escape reality, that they are her friends; do not scoff. Because those books might have saved her life. Might have given her a purpose in living. A reason to go on.