When someone comes into your life, they are writing yet another page of your story.
You are part of so many great chapters of mine.
Truly dark days in my life have been written down, but also incredibly bright ones. I have bookmarked those pages in particular, and I go back to them frequently. The times when I feel unwanted, unloved, I return to them.. they are moments, frozen in time, that I’ll never get back. But that doesn’t mean you can’t go back, through your mind, through your heart. It’s like I’m right there again when I flip the pages. I read the words ever so slowly, but somehow all the chapters come to an end much faster than I’d like.
At the same time, I also want to read the gloomy chapters. I know I must. Without them, my favorite chapters wouldn’t be what they are. I keep reading, for I know I will be happy once again. This reassures me. But now, hmm… these past few chapters.. I’m not too sure anymore about our outcome…. my outcome. There is one chapter after the other filled with unhappiness. When will it turn around?
My fingers brush over all the pages that you filled… something deep within is saying to me, “don’t close the book.” What about the ending? I hate not knowing, yet I love not knowing. I keep flipping and I come upon all the blank pages ahead – my future. They are clean, fresh, crisp pages – not ruined by your ink, or his ink, or their ink. They are stark white, and so strange to look at. I’m imagining all the wonderful things that could be written on them, and all the horrible things.
But none of that matters, as long as there’s a story left to tell. Sitting high atop my shelf, you are my favorite book.