Somedays I would be broken and other days I would be happy. But with books and poetry,novellas and short stories,it is never the same. I will never forget the day I learnt how to read a book,the day my hands first wrote poetry,the day my eyes rumaged every single crevice till it found an abode in handwritten tales.

With books it is never the same. It is always something new and magical, heavenly and surreal. It's like you can't get out of it, can't breathe, can't move too. You want to know what's coming next,what is going to happen. When you are high on pain,books become adhesives,pain killers,pain relievers,even if it is for a short period of time. You learn to write your tales, imagine them and appreciate them because they are your own fantasies. Things you wish to share with the world.

And when you sit down with a cup of coffee,the world becomes a fudgy and blurry image of racoons wandering around you. Because to you,what better world is there than the world of books?
© witheredrose