I love books. I really do. I love to read. I love to imagine that I have been to places that I sure as hell have never been. I want to put myself in the shoes of the character. Heck, sometimes, I even want to be the character. Emotera ba? OA na ba?
News flash, I do not care.
Anyway, I love that books help me lessen the stress I'm feeling. It is my means of escaping from reality. In books, there are no limitations and restrictions unless the story says so. :) In books, I feel that I belong. I even wished that I'll be happy if I'll be a page from the book. If possible, I'm not going back into my life. It's not that I don't like my life. It's just that books are more welcoming. The scent of the pages gives me a positive vibe. I could just cuddle with them all day.
But I realized that excessive love of the books could cause my destruction. Um, not really. I mean, I think I've been living way too far from reality that when it hits me I am having a difficulty of getting up. Do you feel me? I mean, my desire to live is fading. And well, I do not want that to happen too. I do not want myself to revolve just around the books. There is more of my life out there.
Because tbh, I think I'm forgetting that I'm breathing and my purpose in this world is not just about reading books! And to top of it all, I love to read JUST fiction books. That's what my problem is. Lol.
But hey, I'm not blaming any books for this matter. In fact I still love books. I will always love books like how I will love my future husband.
See it's effect? Lol.
Do you love books too?
Just a thought,
DSB
